Reckoning
by Tigereye77
Summary: Spoilers for Lauren!  When Ian Doyle realizes Emily Prentiss is still alive, he does the one thing he knows will smoke her out - he goes after her BAU family.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds story and quite frankly, with the plot I have laid out for it's going to be a long one. I think it's got a little bit of everything in it, action, mystery, romance, angst, etc. There are spoilers for "Lauren" so don't read any further if that bothers you. One thing that I am breaking away from show canon, Hotch doesn't know Prentiss is alive. Only JJ knows. It just set up more possibilities that way. Everyone is going to have a fairly significant role in this story, though I admit that perhaps I may not write Reid and Morgan as well as the others, so fair warning. I also should say that my pairing of choice is Hotch/Prentiss, but that will be a while in coming.**_

_**Hope you enjoy!**_

They all had different reactions to the picture. Aaron Hotchner always arrived early, before anyone else on his team, so he saw it first. It was 6:30 am and no one else was around, no one to capture the faltering of his purposeful stride, the absolute stillness of his body as he stood before the photo for a good 10 minutes before he took a deep breath, his body shuddering slightly and then continued on his way to the elevators.

Spencer Reid was next and much like his team leader, his steps faltered and he stood quietly before the photo, sadly gazing at it, his hands in his pants pockets before he silently said one word and then moved on.

Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia walked in together, having bumped into each other at the nearby espresso bar to pick up their morning coffee. Derek had his head turned to look at his companion so he didn't see the photo at first, but Garcia did. She gasped, tears welling up immediately into her eyes before she bolted for the elevators. Stunned, Derek spun around to see what could have caused his companion such distress and his eyes fell immediately on the photo. It was hard to miss, prominently displayed in the middle of the wall. He closed his eyes as a wave of pain threatened to overcome him before he hurried over to Garcia who was frantically pressing the elevator button, all but slamming her hand against it. When the doors finally opened, she scurried inside and nearly collapsed on the floor, crying. As the doors slowly slid shut, any observer would have seen Derek Morgan pulling the woman into his arms while shedding his own tears.

David Rossi was usually the last one in and today was no exception. He nodded greetings to a few people in the lobby and would have bypassed the photo had he not seen someone else pause before it and then turn away. That slight movement caused him to turn his head and he saw it. He paused and unlike the others he moved closer to it, his eyes never leaving the smiling face of the woman in the picture.

It was in the most prominent place on the wall, in the middle, at eye level, where no one could miss it. That's where they always put the most recent photo, the photo of the latest agent to have died in the line of duty, the FBI's wall of dead.

David Rossi gazed into the smiling face of Emily Prentiss. Even though it was a photo, a two-dimensional representation of one of the most vivacious and alive people he had ever met, the flat nothingness couldn't restrain that energy that was Emily. He cast his eyes over the other photos that surrounded her. Some he recognized, most he didn't, but all he knew would be good company for his friend.

"We're going to get him, kiddo," Dave vowed to her photo. "We'll get him."

It had only been two weeks since Emily's funeral and everyone's nerves were still raw. The appearance of her photo on the Wall just ripped away any progress they had made. They had been fortunate in that no new cases had rolled in during this time. Hotch and Rossi knew their team was not up to it and wouldn't be able to function as they still dealt with the loss of Prentiss. What little ground they had gained was lost again as they were forced to pass Emily's smiling face every morning.

Each had dealt with it in their own way. Hotch simply refused to look at the picture. Rossi glanced at it in passing. Both Morgan and Reid gave a gentle nod to the photo as if saying good morning to their friend. It was Garcia who paid the photo the most attention.

While the cleaning crew dusted all the photos at least once a week, Garcia had taken to making sure it was cleaned every day. Derek caught her Windexing the glass one morning and asked her what she was doing. The tech turned tear filled eyes towards the man.

"I just feel like I have to do something for Emily because I couldn't do anything to save her."

No one questioned Garcia's actions after that. If she found some solace in making sure there was never a speck of dirt or dust on Emily Prentiss' photo, they weren't going to take that away from her. It was, however, Penelope's devotion to the photo that led to Dave Rossi's startling discovery.

It was perhaps about a month later and the team was gaining some semblance of normalcy, but that was only on the surface. They were slower, not as sharp. Emily had yet to be replaced and Seaver was transferred out to a different unit so they were short-handed already. Strauss had indicated that due to budget cuts, they were unlikely to get anyone new to fill the vacancy so they had to make due with their small team of four and Garcia. That was fine with them. They knew each other, they were family and by rights, they should have been drawn closer together. That never happened. They were out of sorts, even Hotch. They got the job done, but they just didn't seem as efficient as they once were.

It was no surprise to Rossi. Hotch was their leader and protector. Rossi himself was their experienced wisdom. Reed was their youth and curiosity. Penelope was their warmth and humanity. Morgan was their passion and fire. But Emily, she was their heart and soul and none of them had realized it until she was gone.

It was in the little things. Rossi had seen each of them turn as if to ask Emily something, only to realize she wasn't there. Derek to share a joke. Reid looking for a confidante. Garcia to pass some girl time with. Hell, he had even once turned to his right to ask Emily what she thought about a wound pattern on a body and then realized she was no longer with them. But it was Hotch that seemed to miss her the most, but hid it the best.

Emily Prentiss anchored their team, because she anchored their leader. More often than the others, Rossi had seen Hotch turned to that vacant space next to him and seen the look of befuddlement on the younger man's face, before a flicker of pain replaced the confusion and his stoic mask fell back into place. Hotch did his job. He did it effectively, but Rossi could tell, he was not he same man. It made Dave wonder just how much his old friend missed Emily.

The incident with the photo confirmed what had only been vague suspicions.

Garcia was on a tear. The angry set of her face, so different from the sad one that had seemed to find a permanent home on her features, made people scramble to get out of her way. She ignored Derek's concerned questions and almost bowled over a too slow Reid as she stormed up the steps to Aaron Hotchner's office, flinging open the partially closed door. Everyone could hear her as she yelled out,

"Some bastard broke the glass!"

Hotch looked up from the file he was reading to stare blankly at Garcia. She stood there, a vision in lime green and bright yellows with a bit of pink thrown in. Her hair was pulled up and piled high on her head with a bright poppy fixed to one side. In all his time working with her, Hotch couldn't think of her ever swearing before.

"Excuse me?" Hotch finally got out.

"The glass!" Penelope fumed. "There's a crack in the glass!"

"What glass?" Hotch was still bewildered.

"The glass over Emily's photo!"

He felt that searing pain in his chest every time he thought of her or heard her name, though his face remained impassive. Aside from the small flicker in his eyes, Hotch exhibited no tell tale sign of any emotion and Garcia was so upset she missed the look entirely. He sat there silently, listening to his tech analyst continue rampaging about the broken glass.

"It's cracked right on the bottom right hand corner. I noticed it three days ago and I told Berenson, you know, she handles all those things for the Wall and she said she would get right on it." Penelope snorted. "Right on it? It's been THREE days! Emily doesn't deserve that! That glass should be in perfect shape and it shouldn't take THREE days to fix it!"

Garcia took a breath but stood there, her body shaking with indignation, anger and Hotch could see, sadness. He nodded gently and said in a comforting tone.

"You're right. I'll speak to Berenson myself and make sure it gets fixed immediately."

"When?" Garcia pressed.

Hotch sighed and then stood up. He walked around his desk and gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "Why don't we go do it now?"

Garcia nodded sharply and spun on her heel, glancing back once to glare at Hotch when he didn't immediately follow her. Getting the message, he quickly fell into step next to her and they marched out of his office past the curious stares of Reid and Morgan and everyone else in the bullpen who had heard Garcia.

Michelle Berenson was a Deputy Communications Coordinator who mainly dealt with the press and channeled information the Bureau wanted made public. One of her other duties was also overseeing the Wall of Fallen Heroes and while important, it was by no means a top priority with her not when she was dealing with reporters demanding information and waiving Freedom of Information Act requests in her face or putting out fires that field agents had started or negotiating inter-agency peace treaties because everyone was so busy protecting their turf to actually try to work together to catch their common enemies. In a short, she was an extremely busy lady.

She was by no means heartless or insensitive, but she did have many demands on her so to any rational person, it would be understandable if she hadn't been able to get to a request to change out the cracked glass in a photo.

But in matters of one Emily Prentiss, Michelle Berenson was going to find out that some people weren't all that rational.

The knock on her office door gave no warning of what was to happen in the next two minutes. It was polite and gentle. She looked up at the half open door to see a tall man darkening it. Michelle scrolled through her mental rolodex of names and faces and stopped on the "H's" when she connected a name to the face. She smiled a bit hurriedly as she stood up and said, "Agent Hotchner. Welcome, please come in." Her smile didn't waver when Hotch moved and she saw who was behind him even though she sighed internally. She knew what this was about and the last thing she wanted to deal with was Garcia and her insistence that the glass on some photo be changed immediately.

But she showed none of this in her face and simply gestured for her two guests to sit down before she reclaimed her own chair. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward, giving an air of interest and complete attention though she was mentally rolling her eyes.

"What can I do for you today?"

Hotch could feel Garcia tremble in indignation at the question, knowing his analyst was going to explode into another tirade. He placed a gentle, but restraining hand on Penelope's arm and felt her settle back into her chair, though she was still seething.

"It has come to our attention that the glass on Emily Prentiss' photo on the Wall has become damaged," Hotch began in a mild, non-aggressive tone. "I understand that Ms. Garcia here has already put in a request to have it fixed, but nothing has been done yet."

"Three days!" Penelope squeaked out loudly.

"Yes," Michelle began, ignoring the other woman's outburst. "She's spoken to me about it several times and I apologize, but I haven't had a chance to get to it."

"But it's a simple requisition order that you just need to send down to publicity," Hotch continued smoothly and still in that mild voice. "It can't take you more than five minutes to fill out the form. In fact, I'll be happy to fill it out for you and all you need to do is approve it and send it down."

Michelle bristled at the suggestion. She may be overworked, but it was HER work. She didn't take kindly to someone coming in telling her how to do her job and even suggesting she may not be doing it.

"That won't be necessary," she responded with a smile that had grown a little tighter. "I'm quite capable of filling out the form on my own and it will be done."

"When?" Garcia pressed.

"In the near future."

"It should be done, today," Penelope was growing angrier by the second and she wasn't the only one.

"I'll get to it if I have the time," Michelle bit out. "I don't know if you're aware, but we've had a shooting at a mall that left five people dead and people wondering if it might be a terrorist attack. I've got more important things to do than to fill out a requisition form to replace a piece of glass on some woman's photo-"

Hotch stood up abruptly, sending his chair flipping over backwards. His quick movement startled both women and they looked up at him with open mouths. He leaned over Michelle's desk and she resisted the urge to scoot her chair backwards. When he had walked in Michelle had noticed that he was a rather handsome man, but now his brow had furrowed and his face had darkened. With his dark hair and eyes, the handsome man had become something more menacing and more dangerous. Michelle swallowed nervously.

Hotch continued in the same mild tone. "She wasn't just 'some woman,'" he said softly. "Her name was Emily Prentiss, Special Agent Emily Prentiss and she gave her life protecting her team, our families, countless others, and one small, innocent boy. She died a hero and she died alone trying to save us all. She deserves respect, she deserves to be honored because she can't get what she really deserves and that's the chance to live. So before you say to me one more time why you don't have the damn time to take five minutes out of your day to fill out one form and send it down to someone who will actually do the work, you'd better think of another reason for delaying this one second more."

His look was piercing and Michelle couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. Blindly, she opened a desk drawer and fumbled a bit before pulling out a piece of paper. She finally tore her eyes away from Hotch who retreated, righted his chair and sat back down, only to continue to watch her like a hawk eyeing a trembling mouse.

Michelle cleared her throat and bent over the paper. "Prentiss you say?"

"Emily Prentiss," Garcia replied in a satisfied tone. "P-R-E-N-T-I-S-S." She turned her head to look gratefully at Hotch.

It actually only took Michelle three minutes to complete the form mainly because she wanted these two out of her office. Garcia graciously offered to take it down to Requisitions for her and Michelle nervously thanked her. As Garcia and Hotch walked out of Berenson's office and down a hallway, the tech analyst turned to her boss.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Tears welled in her eyes. "I couldn't help Emily with Doyle, but at least I could do this."

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Garcia missed that flicker in Hotch's eyes once more. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You were absolutely right in this matter," he said comfortingly. "Emily deserves better."

They separated, Garcia going towards Requisition to drop off the form and Hotch ostensibly returning to the BAU offices. But when he boarded the empty elevator, his hand hovered for a moment over the buttons and then suddenly pressed "L" for the lobby. A short ride brought him to the first floor and he made his way off the elevator and towards the Wall.

Since he first saw the picture he hadn't looked at it again, always keeping his eyes down or resolutely forward. It was just too painful to look at that smiling face on the wall where the only things that tied those people together were the Bureau and death. At times, he could trick himself into thinking that perhaps Emily was simply on vacation or on an interview with a prisoner, but her presence on this wall made it all too real and all too final. Emily Prentiss was dead and he had failed to protect her.

He stood before her picture and noticed the small crack in the glass at the bottom right hand corner. He would have missed it if he hadn't been looking, but like Garcia, he felt anger that even such a tiny flaw was there. Emily did deserve better.

His face remained impassive. Within the Bureau, Aaron Hotchner had a reputation of being a hard-assed boss, a relentless avenger and not someone to mess with. He was humorless, emotionless and cold and anyone who saw him staring at the photo of a lovely brunette who's smile radiated nothing but warmth, his reputation would have remained intact. But inside, the riot of emotions that roiled through him told a different story.

_God, I'm sorry I didn't protect you Emily. I swear though, if it's the last thing I do, I'll hunt down that bastard, Ian Doyle, and make him suffer and pay for what he did you to. You have my word Emily. My word._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you for the kind comments. As I said, this is my first CM story and I haven't been a long time fan of the show, having just really started watching it about two years ago and getting caught up either with A&E or ION, so feedback on whether I've "captured" the characters and the show itself is truly appreciated. As for length, as I said, this will be a long story and I'm not sure, with what I have planned out, if it'll be one story or should it really be broken up into 2 or 3 stories. We'll see how that goes. Thanks again for the feedback.**_

"He did what?" Rossi asked as Garcia smugly related the events from earlier that morning.

"He took Berenson down a peg or two and got that cracked glass replaced," Garcia crowed. "How dare that woman treat our Emily that way?"

Rossi glanced at the others and could see Morgan and Reid nodding in agreement with Garcia. In many ways, Rossi did too, but intimidating someone, especially someone as nice as Michelle Berenson who's only crime was not moving fast enough on an administrative action, that was a bit much. He moved away from his companions and mounted the steps that led to Hotch's office.

"Got a minute?" Rossi asked as he poked his head into the Unit Chief's office.

Hotch looked up from the file he was reading and nodded. He casually closed the file and set it aside. Rossi noticed his actions.

"What's this about Berenson and Emily's picture?"

The flicker appeared in Hotch's eyes at the mention of Emily's name, but unlike Garcia, Dave Rossi definitely noticed it. Hotch sighed. "The woman was being unreasonable. All she had to do was take a few minutes and fill out a form and send it on. In fact, it took her precisely three minutes and fifteen seconds to do it. Instead she decided to just push it aside."

Rossi frowned. "Aaron, Berenson's got a pretty complicated job. I'm sure she had a good reason for taking so long to get that done."

A flicker of anger now appeared in Hotch's eyes, surprising Rossi. "It was disrespectful to Prentiss."

Rossi knew Hotch had been taking Emily's death hard. They all had, but in the past two months, the change in Hotch was beginning to worry him. It wasn't obvious to anyone else, not even the other members of their team, but Rossi had known Hotch for a while and he was an excellent profiler.

There was the shortness of temper, the minor clashes he had begun having with local law enforcement, and more disturbingly, losses in concentration. They were in Cincinnati a few weeks ago and Rossi had noticed Hotch had completely drifted off a couple times. He had immediately stepped in to cover any lapses by the Unit Chief, but it was worrying to Dave. They were small things but they added up to Rossi. While the other members of the team have been taking tiny steps forward, Hotch had remained firmly entrenched in his grief. If anything, he was taking steps back.

Just how close was he to Emily?

She was a beautiful woman, something Rossi had noticed immediately when he first met her. And while Dave did like women a little younger than himself, he never looked at Emily in that way. He was fond of her and thought of her more as a daughter. He knew both Reid and Morgan saw her as a sister and it went without saying that was how Garcia pictured her, but Hotch? Ask him a year ago and Rossi would have said Hotch looked at Emily with nothing more than brotherly eyes, but now? The younger man wasn't even this withdrawn and upset when Haley died and he loved and married her.

Now this whole incident with the photo. The Hotchner he knew wouldn't have even bothered with this, respecting Berenson enough to allow her to do her job.

Granted, Hotch's reactions could simply be an accumulation of grief and losses he had suffered over the last few years or something else like guilt or inadequacy was in play. Lord knows Rossi felt guilty every day for failing to help Emily out when she needed them the most. But Rossi knew that there was something more there, that Hotch harbored deeper feelings for Emily Prentiss. Maybe he didn't even realize it himself until she was gone and now that she was, it was too late for him to do anything about it and he was only left with 'what ifs' and regrets.

They had been sitting in silence for several seconds and Rossi watched as Hotch absently tapped his finger on the folder he had closed when Dave walked into the office.

"Is that our next case?" Rossi asked with a nod towards the file.

"No," Hotch replied evenly. He picked up the file and slid it into a drawer. "Just some budgetary items Strauss asked me to look over."

_Liar_. Rossi thought. The one thing Erin Strauss wouldn't ask Arron Hotchner to do is look at anything relating to the budgets.

"Liar," Rossi said, deciding to confront Aaron. "That's your file on Doyle, isn't it?"

Hotch's brow furrowed deeper and his face darkened. Rossi marveled that so many people thought Hotchner showed no emotion when his face was one of the most expressive ones he had ever seen. You just had to know how to read "dark".

"And if it is?" Hotch replied evenly. "You're telling me you don't have one? That Reid or Morgan or even Garcia hasn't tried to track down Ian Doyle, the man who killed Emily?"

That was something else Dave noticed. Since her death, more often than not, Hotch had been referring to her as "Emily". While he and the other members of their team used both her first and last name with equal frequency, Hotch had mainly addressed her as "Prentiss". Dave thought he could count on one hand the number of times he has heard Aaron actually address her "Emily" when she was alive. But now, it was almost always "Emily" he used.

"Of course we all have files," Rossi replied. "You know we do. And you know we've all tapped whatever sources and resources we have and after two months, none of us have come up with anything substantial." He raised his eyebrows. "Have you found something?"

Hotch let out a small sigh. "No. I'm just going over everything again to see if there was something we missed."

"Nothing?"

"No."

Rossi nodded his head gently. "What little we know of Doyle, he has resources and a vast network. He can disappear. It's not going to be easy to find him."

"But we will," Hotch replied coldly. Rossi shot him a look. "We won't stop until we find him and make sure he pays for what he did to Emily."

* * *

_**Six Months Later. Paris, France.**_

Sean O'Malley's feet hit the roof hard and his knees buckled. He fell to all fours, but with his body protesting the movement, forced himself upright as he ran across the roof, ready to jump to the next one.

It was fortunate that these Paris rooftops were so close together. Sean had thought that this would be the best way to elude his pursuer, but that shadowy figure had simply followed, gaining ground with each step. Whether it was a man or a woman, he did not know, just that it was some dark figure, a shadow that blended in with the cloud-covered night and would at times disappear from his vision when he dared to look back, only to suddenly reappear out of the blackness, closer than ever. He couldn't even hear any footfalls and wildly wondered if it was some phantom chasing him.

A phantom with a very real leg that sent Sean sprawling. He landed hard, the wind knocked out of him and this time his body wasn't going to let him get up no matter what his mind was screaming for it to do. The shadow materialized out of the darkness and bent over him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in one hand and shoving a gun against the middle of his forehead with the other.

"Ian Doyle," the shadow whispered. "Where is he?"

"I don't know!" Sean cried out. "I've never seen him. I just deal with the lieutenants!"

"Who does he have in his stables now?"

"Morely. Some bloke named Jonas Morely. Mean SOB. And uh, Frye. John Frye is his name. That's all I know!"

"And the shipment is definitely going through Madrid?"

"Yeah! Yeah! That's right!"

"It's not very wise to lie to me, Sean," the voice cooed out. "I happen to know its Barcelona. You've been a very bad boy."

Sean could hear the trigger being pulled back and whimpered. At the last second, the shadow shifted the gun and struck Sean, knocking him out. With the man unconscious, the shadow removed a pair of handcuffs and put them on him. A small sound, no louder than a whisper had the shadow spinning around and dropping to one knee as another man emerged from the door that led into the building.

"Well, that was neatly done," Clyde Easter said as he slid out of the darkness to stand by the shadow that slowly stood up. He gazed down at the unconscious, handcuffed man. "How much do you think he'll be able to give us?"

The shadow shrugged. "He gave up two names. Doyle's lieutenants. It brings us closer to him."

"What were the names?"

"Morley and Frye."

"Ah," Clyde nodded his head gently. "Two particularly nasty pieces of business. And the shipment? Still Barcelona?"

"That would be my guess. He tried lying to me and saying it was Madrid, but he's a terrible liar."

"Especially to a trained and very talented profiler," Clyde replied dryly. He glanced around. "You'd best be off before the clean-up team comes by and sees you." When the shadow moved towards the edge of the roof with the intention of jumping onto the next one, he called out. "You know luv, you could always take the stairs."

At that moment, there was a break in the clouds and a light of the moon touched upon a pale face with large dark eyes, framed in long, thick lashes. A pale pink mouth twitched into a wry smile. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be as fun," Emily Prentiss said before she leaped nimbly over the edge and landed with barely an audible sound onto the roof next door.

* * *

_**San Francisco, CA**_

"What do you mean the Barcelona shipment was intercepted?" Ian Doyle roared at the underling named Smythe who quaked in front of him. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know how, but the authorities were there to meet us," Smythe continued.

"Get out! Get out!" Doyle yelled at Smythe. After the man had scurried out of the room, Ian Doyle threw himself into his easy chair and brooded.

How had they known about the Barcelona shipment? It was an old drop point that he hasn't used in years and anyone who knew about it was dead. This was the second operation that had gone horribly wrong. Doyle gazed into the distance and narrowed his eyes. Did he have a mole in his house?

_If there is one_, he thought grimly. He knew exactly how to deal with it.

* * *

_**One Year Later. New York City, NY.**_

Little by little, Ian Doyle's organization had been chipped away. Operations were disrupted, deals were broken up and nothing he did seemed to have worked to stem the tide of failure. Several of his own people had been tortured as he tried to ferret out who could be passing information on to the authorities for there had to be an inside person, otherwise, how could so many things be compromised? It was as if someone knew his mind inside and out, but that was impossible. The only person that Doyle thought might have been able to do that was long dead.

_How, how were they doing it?_ It was driving Doyle mad and soon there would be nothing left of what had taken him decades to build.

That was when the call came in that changed everything.

* * *

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau was deep into a file when her computer let out a warning beep. Her head snapped up and she turned to look at the machine, hastily moving the mouse and taking the computer monitor out of sleep mode. What she saw caused her heart to quicken and her palms to sweat. A few quick taps of the keyboard did nothing to ease her anxiety.

JJ didn't have Penelope Garcia's way with computers and her technical knowledge was limited, but she had learned a few special tricks all for this particular file and calling them into play she was incredibly unhappy with the results.

Someone had accessed a file they shouldn't have, a file where only three people had clearance and a password to see and she was one of the three. She knew neither of the two remaining people had accessed it either. They would have no reason to do so. But someone had gone in there to look around and they had done it in some way without using any of the three existing passwords.

JJ started to reach for her phone, to get one of the Department tech analysts on this problem and see if the intruder could be traced, but she hesitated. There had been talk of a mole at the State Department for the past year. A quiet investigation had been going on but JJ knew they were no closer to finding the identity of the leak. She didn't know if she could trust someone in-house and this was definitely something she wanted kept under the radar as much as possible.

There was only one person she knew who had the ability to track the leak and that she trusted implicitly. She just had to make sure that this person never looked into the file.

JJ picked up her phone and started to dial.

* * *

"So Garcia is meeting us?" Rossi asked Morgan as he slid into the seat next to Hotch.

Derek nodded. "She said she had to do something first and then she would meet us here."

They had just returned from another exhausting case, this time in Nebraska and it hadn't gone too well. The UNSUB had killed five more people after they had arrived and was holding a sixth when they finally moved in on him. The hostage didn't make it and while they could say it was a victory in that the killer was captured, it was small comfort to the victims' families.

While no longer reeling from Emily's death, Rossi knew they were still off their game and wondered if they would ever get back on it. He was tired and he knew the rest of the team were too, none more so than Hotch. Dave glanced at the younger man who silently sipped his beer. Hotch's face appeared to be permanently set in a dark scowl these days. He was more short-tempered than ever and clashed repeatedly with Strauss. How he got away with it, Dave wasn't sure. In the past, Strauss would have fired or at least demoted Hotch's ass, but he had some guardian angel looking out for him. Dave sometimes wondered if it was Emily herself.

"I think I'm going to go home now," Hotch said as he abruptly stood up. "Go see Jack."

"I thought you said he was spending a week with his grandparents in North Carolina," Reid said.

Hotch threw the young man a glare as Morgan and Rossi looked at him.

"Hotch, just give it a rest," Derek said gently. "Don't go to the office tonight."

"There's a lot of work to be done," Hotch commented stiffly.

"You're just going to go over the Doyle casefile again," Reid piped in with an edge to his voice they rarely heard. They all turned to look at him and Hotch's scowl deepened. "We've been searching for 18 months and none of us have found one lead on the man. Even the original profile Easter gave us isn't helping. We know he has an extensive network, but we can't find any way to trace any part of it. Yet, we all go and read the casefile again and again and again, hoping we'll find something and we never do. I have an eidetic memory, I remember everything after I've read it once, and I still read the casefile." His shoulders slump and he seemed to grow smaller. "But I always come to the same conclusion. We failed Emily again."

Reid's outburst silenced the men and Rossi could see a faint glimmer of some emotion other than what has become the usual anger and pain appear in Hotch's eyes. Regardless of how he himself was feeling, Aaron still cared deeply about all of them.

Hotch placed a gentle hand on Reid's shoulder. "Spencer, I swear we will find this man and we will make him pay."

Reid sighed. "You've been saying that for almost two years and we're no where near any closer to finding him. How can we make Doyle pay when we have no clue to where he is?"

Hotch swallowed. "I don't know. I don't have that answer, but I have to believe we'll bring him to justice one of these days for Emily's sake."

They were silent again and Reid, though unconvinced, tried to smile for his boss. However, it did stop Hotch from leaving and he sat back down again to finish his beer. He never got to do that because Garcia entered the bar and walked slowly over to them. Morgan spotted her first.

"Well, here's Baby Gir-," his voice trailed off when he took in Penelope's appearance.

Her tights were mud splattered and shoes that were a bright turquoise were now ruined by more mud. The cardigan that covered her dress was slipping off one shoulder and the feathered headband she wore was askew on her head. But more disconcerting to the men was the pallor of her skin and the look of shock in her eyes.

"Penelope!" Derek leapt to his feet and his companions followed a second layer. "What happened?" He gently took her by the arm and sat her down in the chair he had just vacated. He knelt down beside her and gently stroked her arm. "Talk to me."

Garcia looked around at the ring of concerned faces. She swallowed and then opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally found her voice.

"I went to go put flowers on Emily's grave. You know, I do it every Sunday but this last case kept me in the office so I had to do it today and I wanted to do it before it got dark, that's what delayed me."

All the men nodded and Derek's warm hand encouraged her to continue.

"When-, when I got there, oh God," Garcia sobbed. "Some-, someone had dug her up and broken open her casket. They took Emily's body!"


	3. Chapter 3

They stood there among the shattered remains of the casket. The displaced dirt had been trampled by the pairs of many feet. White satin stained by mud and rain. Even the head stone did not survive unscathed as it laid in several pieces, telling them the force of the anger and tool that would break granite.

"No one heard anything?" Hotch asked the local police officer who was handling the crime.

"Nope," the young man replied. "Not much call to have security at night in a cemetery. No security cameras over here by the graves either."

"Who discovered it?" Hotch continued.

"Some of the maintenance workers needed to work on some sprinklers over there," the officer gestured to a spot about 20 yards away. "They saw the destruction. Called us in."

"And that was about 1 pm today?" Hotch queried.

Rossi listened to Aaron's questioning as he wandered around the scene. To someone who didn't know him as well as he did, Hotch's voice was level, dispassionate, but Dave could hear the slightest tremble of anger in it. They were all furious, but Hotch was holding it in. Rossi wondered how much longer it would be before the man exploded.

Rossi could hear Derek's mumbling and swearing, empty threats made against an unseen enemy. Reid stood off to the side with just an incredibly sad look on his face. Garcia had gone back to the BAU, not wanting to revisit this horrific scene. She was already trying to compile a list of any other similar incidents in the surrounding area.

But Rossi knew that this was not the work of any vandal. He lifted his eyes and saw Hotch watching him. A silent exchange passed between them.

Doyle.

Hotch nodded once and spun on his heel, stalking back to the SUV. Reid followed him and after a few more loud curses, Derek did too.

Rossi moved more slowly and as he did so, the toe of his shoe hit something. He bent down to examine it and saw a bit of red rock. He picked it up for a closer look and frowned. It was a small piece of brick. He glanced around the cemetery and didn't see anything that would explain why a piece of brick would be here.

His frown deepened and he looked around the crime scene again. They had already started to clean up by the time they had arrived so he did not get a chance to see the crime scene in its original form. What remained of the coffin was already in one pile. Rossi moved towards the pile and looked at a large piece of satin.

It was dirty, it was muddy, but there was a strange reddish color to it too. He glanced around at the dirt which was, well, dirt color, but nothing with clay or anything else in it to explain the reddish tint to the white satin that was inside Emily's coffin. He glanced down at the piece of brick in his hand.

"Hey, Rossi!" Morgan yelled. "Come on!"

Rossi straightened up and slipped the nugget into his jacket pocket. He gave one last lingering look at the desecrated grave before turning around to catch up with his teammates.

"What the hell type of sick mind games is Doyle playing at here?" Morgan growled out as Hotch drove them back to the bar. They had taken one car to the cemetery and now the others were going to pick up their own vehicles.

"I don't know," Hotch replied. "It might not be a game. He might feel some need to have Emily's body-" His voice trailed off and this time no one could miss the tell tale sign of his distress as his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

"We don't know much about Doyle, but nothing in his file indicates he would have necrophilic tendencies." Reid offered.

Morgan visibly winced. "Kid, this is Emily we're talking about. Show some sensitivity."

"With all due respect, Morgan," Reid snapped back in tones sharp enough to force Hotch to glance in the review mirror to look at him. "This is the first sign of Doyle we've had in almost two years. I'll throw sensitivity out the window and go down every seamy street if it gets us closer to catching him."

For the second time that night, the youngest member of their team had managed to silence them all. They nodded their heads and silently agreed that no matter what horrific path this might take them down, they would need to work this case just like any other.

"Rossi, you've been quiet," Morgan said as he turned to look into the backseat where the older man sat next to Reid.

"Just thinking," Rossi replied thoughtfully. Derek and Reid let it go but he caught Hotch watching him in the rear view mirror. He lifted an eyebrow and Hotch nodded. They would talk later.

* * *

"Oh, JJ, thank God you called me!" Garcia burst out when she answered her phone.

"Penelope, I need you to listen to me-"

"You won't believe what happened! It's like the most horrific, uber, disgusting thing you can think of!"

"Garcia-"

"But I swear, when I find out who did it, I'll make sure they're locked away for years."

"Garcia!" JJ shouted.

That shut up the tech analyst. JJ rarely raised her voice and when she did, it was a clear indication that something serious was on her mind.

"I need you to grab your laptop and come to my office right now," JJ continued.

"At the State Department?" Garcia was confused.

"Yes. Don't tell anyone where you're going, just come here now. I'll have a pass waiting for you at the desk."

"But JJ, I need to run-"

"Drop everything, Penelope. This is vital and urgent. I'll talk to Hotch and anyone else I need to later."

"But JJ, it's-"

"Garcia! Just do it." JJ hung up.

Garcia stared at the phone for a moment before she slowly took off her headset and began to gather her things. She looked at her monitor, longing to track down the vandals that had desecrated Emily's grave, but JJ's voice held an urgency she had never heard before. Garcia bit her lip and finally decided that it was more important to help her living friend at this time than her dead one.

"I'm sorry, Emily, but I swear, as soon as I get JJ squared away, I'll be back to help you," Penelope whispered before she picked up her laptop, her purse and left her office.

* * *

Because they had been traveling back from a case that day, the four men agreed that they would go home first to shower and change before meeting back at the BAU to examine this new development with Doyle. They separated at the bar, Morgan offering to drive Reid home as he was the only one without a car. The younger man declined opting to take the subway.

That decision likely spared Spencer Reid a world a pain. There was a delay on his usual subway route, forcing Reid to take a more circuitous way and depositing him at the back of his apartment building and a little trafficked side door that he probably had gone through twice in the four years he's lived in this particular building. That small twist of fate meant that Doyle's men missed him.

The others weren't so lucky. As Hotch, Rossi and Morgan stepped out of their respective cars in the garages or parking lots a group of men quickly surrounded them. Rossi, slower and older than the other two was hustled quickly into a waiting van with little struggle taking place. Hotch, started to draw his gun but was punched for his efforts, he managed to get in a few punches of his own before he was tasered and knocked unconscious. Morgan managed to knock out one man but was quickly set on by the others and a blow to the head stopped any further resistance.

"We have three of them. Hotchner, Morgan and Rossi," one man reported to his boss.

"And the others?" Ian Doyle asked as he gazed out into the night.

"They can't seem to find Reid and the two women are still in the State Department."

"Forget about them," Doyle ordered. "These three will do. They're the strongest of that team. There's very little those two women and that boy can do to us. Bring them to the warehouse." Doyle hung up and the man who was standing silently in the room with him decided to speak.

"Ian, why the need to kidnap three FBI agents? We had the names given to Prentiss. We could have tracked her down ourselves. Why draw attention like this?"

"Ah, Jonas," Doyle said as he continued to look out his window. "That would have taken time and far too much time has passed already. Once Emily knows I have part of her family, she'll come to me. No doubt about it."

* * *

Garcia was a Goddess, but seriously, the guy who hacked into that file JJ had was damn good. For the past three hours she had been trying to back trace the guy, following more false leads than she could count.

"JJ," she sighed. "I'm not sure I can retrace this. He's had me bouncing off networks in China, India, Sweden and South Africa. Whoever hacked his way in here is good. I mean, really good."

"Can you tell how much he saw?" JJ asked, biting her lip.

"My guess would be every secret-y thing you've got in that file," Garcia replied as she continued to type along.

JJ closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Excuse me," she said to Garcia who waved her hand distractedly, intent on her hunt for someone who could challenge her considerable skills.

JJ stepped out of her office and into a smaller, private one. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before someone answered.

"Ma'am? It's me, Jennifer Jarreau. We have a situation. She's been compromised. I think we need to bring her in." The voice at the other end said something and JJ's brow wrinkled and then her eyes widened. "But wha-? When? What about Reid? No, no, Garcia is here with me. And Will and Henry?" JJ closed her eyes. "Thank you, ma'am. Yes, yes, I understand. Garcia and I will meet the guards downstairs and we'll head over to the BAU right away."

JJ hung up and taking a deep breath, she went back into her office.

"Garcia," she began.

"Hmmm? Oh, JJ, you know this guy is just really good, but I know I'm better. If I could just have a few more hours, I'm sure I can hunt this sucker down."

"Penelope, there's been some trouble."

Garcia froze and JJ could see her taking a deep breath before she turned around to look at the other blonde.

"A few hours ago, Hotch, Derek and Dave were kidnapped from their apartment buildings. All signs indicate it was Ian Doyle's work. Reid is alright and he's being escorted to the BAU by a security detail. There's one waiting for us downstairs and we're to report immediately to the BAU as well."

Garcia continued to stare blankly at her friend. "Doyle? Doyle has three of our boys? But, why? I mean, the only thing he could want from us is Declan and none of us know where Emily hid him."

JJ patted her friend's arm and helped her to her feet. "Let's wait until we get to the BAU so I can talk to both you and Spencer together."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Geneva, Switzerland**_

Someone was here in her apartment. Emily pulled out her gun and carefully eased into her front room, eyes and ears on high alert.

"It's just me, luv," Clyde Easter said as he got up from the wing chair by the fireplace.

"Christ, Clyde!" Emily snapped out as she holstered her weapon. "What are you doing here?" He had never gotten this close to one of her identities. All their contact had been in public where they acted as if they were total strangers or in dark places exchanging prisoners and information. She saw the expression on his face and a trickle of dread went through her.

"What happened?" she asked, her throat and mouth dry.

"Three of your BAU team members were captured by Ian Doyle. We've learned that the three original identities provided to you have been compromised. We suspect Doyle knows you're alive and is trying to draw you out to save your friends. We're bringing you in, Emily."

"Who does Doyle have?" Emily whispered, trying to absorb everything.

"Hotchner, Morgan and Rossi."

Emily closed her eyes as their faces flashed in her mind, remembering them in better times. She had brought all this on them and now her family was truly paying for her past. "And their families? Are they being protected?"

Clyde nodded. "Security detail was sent out immediately. The others are also being guarded as are their families. We need to go luv, don't worry about packing anything."


	4. Chapter 4

Clyde Easter was nothing if not quick and efficient. It was less than an hour after making contact with Emily that they were now on a private jet winging their way to Germany where they would catch a military transport to take them to Virginia. All told, it would be about twelve hours of traveling before she set foot again in the BAU. Or would be if that was where Clyde was taking her.

"Safe house?" Emily cried out. "I'm not going to a safe house when Doyle has them!"

"Emily, we know you're his target so it works to everyone's benefit if you stay hidden until we locate him."

"Everyone but Hotch, Rossi and Morgan!" she snapped back. "Clyde, you know what Doyle is capable of. He'll torture them, keep them alive as long as possible and make them suffer every moment. I'm not going to hide away like some scared rabbit. You couldn't get me to do that when I 'died' and you're sure as hell are not going to get me to do that now!"

"Dammit, Emily! Remember the last time you went after Doyle? He nearly killed you. You almost didn't make it back."

"I'm well aware of that. But this is my family, Clyde. I need to go and help them. We're going to the BAU. I suspect there's an inter-agency effort going on now?"

At her raised eyebrow, Clyde Easter growled. "You know there is. Ian Doyle is one of the most wanted men in the world, especially in America. Now with three federal agents kidnapped, that gives you yanks all the more reason to play John Wayne."

"John Wayne isn't going to get the guys out of there alive," Emily mused. Easter could see that brain he admired as much as her beauty working rapidly. "How did Doyle find out about me?"

"There's been a security leak in your government. All evidence seems to point to an outside hacker, but the inner circle seems to think it's a mole. With what department, we're not certain, but he, or she, has been able to hack into several classified documents and sell the contents. We think this person stumbled across your file and sold the information to Doyle."

"You don't think it was someone on his payroll?"

Easter shook his head. "There's someone who's definitely been freelancing. But this person obviously knew enough about Doyle to know that he would pay very handsomely for information about your whereabouts."

"Is it in the FBI?"

Clyde shook his head again. "Unlikely. He seems to be keeping himself in international efforts. With the domestic focus, it's unlikely if he was FBI he'd be aware of where to look for some of this information."

"A mole," Emily mused. "CIA, NSA, State Department and other organizations."

Clyde tiled his head as he regarded her. "What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

Emily stared out the window. "Just thinking."

* * *

"She's alive?" Reid squeaked out, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at JJ.

Garcia sat down with a loud thump.

"How?" Reid squeaked again.

"When Emily got out of surgery, she was taken to an undisclosed location to recuperate. Ian Doyle is one of the most dangerous men in the world and Emily was the only one who knew him inside and out. She was deemed too valuable to put at risk so it was decided that her death would be faked and she would be given a new identity."

"And she just walked away, from all of us?" Reid asked angrily. "She just left us?"

"She didn't have much choice," JJ sighed. "If Emily was alive she either would have been taken again-"

"We would have protected her!" Garcia cried out.

"Or one or all of us would have," JJ continued in a strong voice. "Doyle would have killed all of us and all of our families. Your mother, Spencer. Kevin, Penelope. And Henry and Will. Jack would have died and Morgan's mother and sisters. Rossi has a sister in Oregon and likely she would have been killed too. We all had targets on our backs if Emily remained alive and Doyle free."

"Well, what went wrong, because it looks like that's what happened anyway," Reid snapped out.

"There's been a mole working the intelligence agencies for the past year. It's been very quiet and hush-hush because we can't seem to find any trace of him. All of his forays look like the work of a hacker, but we think it's been an inside job."

"Hacker? Mole?" Garcia echoed. "That's what you had me trying to figure out today."

JJ nodded. "The file the mole hacked into was Emily's. It contained the three potential aliases we gave her and passport information."

"Oh God, JJ," Garcia whispered. "Do you think he found her? I mean, this guy is good and I couldn't even figure out when he hacked into the file. We don't know how long he's had this information or how long Doyle has known."

"If he had Emily, he wouldn't need to take Hotch and the others," JJ said.

"Unless it was to make Emily talk," Reid replied. "Emily wouldn't break under torture. She'd let Doyle kill her first before she told him where Declan was."

"So why take Morgan, Hotch and Rossi?" Penelope asked.

"To smoke Emily out."

* * *

"_Stay with me, Emily! Keep squeezing my hand!"_

_He could hear Morgan shouting frantically and his words flooded his body with panic. Hotch pushed aside SWAT members as he ran frantically to where Derek was leaning over Emily._

_He gasped in shock when he saw her impaled by the wooden table leg. He dropped down next to her and heard himself screaming for the medics._

"_Emily! Emily! Hang on!" Hotch cried out. His hand brushed back her bangs and the movement caused her eyelids to flutter and slowly she opened them to focus on his face._

"_Let me go," she whispered._

"_Like Hell I will," he snapped back. "Prentiss, you keep your ass in this world! That's an order! Where the Hell is that medic?"_

"_Let me go," she repeated, her eyes large and pleading._

"_Never, Emily."_

_

* * *

_

"Emily," Hotch murmured.

"I think he's coming too."

Even through a fog of pain, both physical and emotional as he remembered the last moments he spent with Emily Prentiss, Hotch could recognized that rough voice. Rossi. Slowly, Hotch tried to open his eyes and move his arms. When he could do one, but not the other, his head jerked up and he panicked slightly.

"Easy, Hotch!" he heard Derek to his left. "You're restrained."

His eyes focused and Hotch could see that his wrist and ankles were tied to the arms and front legs of the chair in which he sat. He looked to his left where a bruised Morgan gave him a lopsided smile and then to his right where what appeared to be an uninjured Rossi nodded at him.

Hotch shifted slightly in his chair and winced. He could feel the effects of the taser still. He could see he was tied to the chair by plastic restraints. He tested them and knew they were securely fastened. He looked at Rossi. "Doyle?"

"Who else? If the Irish accents of the guys who grabbed me wasn't a dead give away, I don't know what is," the older man replied.

"Anyone else taken? Reid? JJ? Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"I don't think so, Hotch," Derek replied. "I thought I heard a couple of my goons talking about how they couldn't get to them and to forget about it. That we were enough."

Hotch let out a relieved breath. At least they were safe and no doubt would have figured out something was wrong. Spencer and Garcia were waiting for them at the BAU and since Emily's death, Penelope had been keeping fairly close tabs on them. If they didn't show up, she would raise the alarm and wouldn't stop until someone investigated.

"What I don't understand," Rossi began as he gently tried to rotate his wrists, seeing if he could loosen the ties in some way. "Is why Doyle grabbed us? It's not like any of us know where the heck Declan is."

"Yeah, and it's not like any of us were getting close to him," Derek nodded. "None of us have gotten a bead on him for two years."

"I suspect Doyle will let us know exactly what he wants with us," Hotch replied dryly.

"How very perceptive of you, Agent Hotchner," a voice with a slight Irish lilt called out from the shadows. The speaker moved forward until one of the overhanging lights in the room hit him and the BAU men could see his face.

Ian Doyle.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I have to say, I was severely disappointed in the first new episode after "Lauren". I knew from a Thomas Gibson episode that there probably wouldn't be much grief shown over Prentiss, but come on, that was pretty much cold all the way around. Aside from the little bit with Garcia and Reid's brief mention of how he used to confide in Prentiss, it was way too emotionless for my liking. For Heaven's sakes, they showed more mourning for Haley by the team than they did for Emily. But what really got my dander up was the line, "Seaver knows she's not here to replace Prentiss" and the ridiculous fist-bump she did with Rossi. I got rid of Agent Barbie, blonde and she shows as much expression as the doll, in this story so I didn't have to deal with her, but I'm sorely tempted to put her back in so I can kill her off. Ah well, at least the show and I agree that Emily's picture should be on the Wall of fallen agents, but I can see now if we want any real exploration of what Emily's "death" means to the team, it'll probably only be in fan fic. I hope folks are enjoying this story and I appreciate the comments so far and hope some will take time to provide feedback, especially if I'm not making sense or you feel the characters are "off".**

"I hope you find the accommodations to your liking? It's a bit rustic, but ah, thanks to a mutual friend of ours, my assets aren't what they used to be." Doyle strolled over and leaned against a small table that was placed several feet in front of Hotch.

"What's this all about Doyle?" Hotch spat out. "Why did you kidnap us?"

"Well, you see, because my resources have been so severely depleted by our little friend, I thought this would be the quickest and most economical way to bring her to me. Afterall, I've been hit by the recession too." He gazed balefully at them.

"Man, what the Hell are you talking about?" Morgan snapped out, confused by Doyle's nonsensical talk. "What friend?"

Doyle laughed loudly, literally slapping his knee in amusement. "Oh, you're a good actor Agent Morgan! I wouldn't have thought you had it in you." The mirth left his face and he gazed coldly at them. "But you know exactly who I mean."

"I know that you are a sociopath who killed a dear friend of mine and you should pray I never get out of these restraints for I will tear you apart," Hotch snarled as he leaned forward.

Doyle rolled his eyes and let out an amused puff of air. "Pffffttt! You're not nearly as convincing as Derek Morgan. I think you need to show some real anger and put some ooomppphhhfff! into your threats. It think it's in the inflections. Try it again."

"Just what the Hell are you going on about?" Rossi chimed in. "We have no clue why you're doing any of this. Why kidnap us? Why dig up Emily's grave and take her body because we know you did that. Come on, tell us. You've got the profilers stumped."

Hotch and Morgan realized that unlike them, Rossi had managed to keep some of his wits about him and not allow the overwhelming anger and hatred that filled all of them detract from what needed to be done. He had quelled his anger and was now attempting not only to get information, but trying to establish some type of rapport with Doyle. The other two men kept silent, allowing Rossi to lead for now.

Doyle sighed. "I expected all of you to deny knowing anything, but come on! You don't exactly expect me to believe none of you knew." He shook his head in mock regret. "Ah, I hope Lauren knows what chaos she has wrecked."

"Emily," Hotch gritted out, forgetting his earlier decision to let Rossi handle things. He could not stand to hear this animal call her by that name, a name that wasn't her own, a name of a woman he knew never existed. She was a role that Emily played. She wasn't real and any feelings or thoughts or beliefs she had were not real either. They weren't Emily. Lauren was a woman who was with _him_. "Her name was Emily Prentiss and she was our friend, our family."

Doyle's eyes narrowed as he looked at Hotch. The BAU man glared right back and as the seconds ticked away neither man's gaze wavered. Cold blue met fierce brown, the energy and tension radiating off of both men in palatable waves. Slowly, Doyle withdrew and a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

"She got to you too, didn't she?" he said softly, knowingly, conspiratorially. "She has that type of power over people, Lauren did. Through all the pain and suffering around you, that you see, there was always that part of her, that warmth, that loving side that just wrapped around you like the warmest of blankets, protecting and shielding you. Through all the bad and horror, you knew good existed, because she showed it to you, protected you, warmed you, loved you. No, it isn't hard to love Lauren. To fall in love with her."

"Emily," Hotch said in a hoarse voice. "And that was her until you killed her."

Doyle cocked his head when he heard the palatable anguish in Hotch's voice. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the other man and then swung his gaze to contemplate Rossi and Morgan. Realization dawned in his eyes and he let out a small sympathetic sigh.

"Ah, you actually didn't know," he continued in a soft voice, a voice that belied the violence the man was capable of wrecking, the violence Hotch had seen in every mark on Emily's body as he begged her to stay alive in Boston.

"Don't know what?" Morgan shouted in exasperation.

Doyle gave them a sympathetic smile that was colored with amusement.

"Lau-, sorry, Emily, your friend, your family, she's not dead."

* * *

"I still say we should be heading towards the safe house. It's not even a house, it's a military base. Wonderful protection there and you wouldn't be cooped up in a small building. I hear they have a pool and ping pong tables there too. What could be better?" Clyde Easter prattled on as he followed Emily into the FBI building.

"Clyde, you've been saying the same thing for the last three hours. Give it a rest," Emily sighed. She stopped short when an armed guard met her but he was waved aside when another man appeared.

"Emily Prentiss and Clyde Easter?" the man asked. He was tall, well over six feet with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He looked to be about forty and his lean, hardened body spoke of a man who kept himself in good shape not for vanity's sake, but to do his job. "I'm Frank Williams, Deputy Director." He gave Emily a lopsided smile. "I was appointed about a year and a half ago after you…" he paused for the right word, "left, Agent Prentiss. Sorry we have to meet under such circumstances."

"Considering what happened two years ago," Emily said as she shook his hand. "I don't think we could have met under any circumstances that would be considered good."

Williams nodded and motioned them to follow him to the elevators. "I'm officially running point for the Bureau on this inter-agency task force. However, as discussed earlier, you'll actually be the one heading up the task force itself."

"I bet that went over well," Emily remarked dryly as they boarded the elevator and they made the familiar trip up to the BAU offices.

Williams shrugged. "Most of them took it in stride, but it was the logical thing to do. No one knows Doyle better than you do." He cocked an appreciative eyebrow at her. "I think what swayed a lot of people's opinion were some of the highlights of your efforts the past two years."

Emily frowned at him. "They know about that?"

Clyde interjected. "I insisted they were informed about the impact you've been having on dismantling Doyle's organization. They need to feel confident about your knowledge and ability to read, predict and analyze Doyle's actions."

Emily nodded. "Otherwise, they'll see me as another one of his victims." She sighed and gave Williams an uncertain look. "And the FBI? How are they taking this?"

"Strauss is not involved," Williams replied. "This is strictly at the Director level and he's assigned me to act as liaison. You'll find you have the full support of the Bureau."

"I meant," Emily hesitated.

Williams suddenly hit the STOP button on the elevator and turned towards Emily with kind eyes. "I'm sure your former team members are feeling hurt right now," he said gently. "And they probably will for a while, but if they truly are your friends, they'll understand it in time. They're also professionals and they know right now is not the time to allow their emotions to overwhelm them. We have three agents in jeopardy and they'll do what they need to do to bring them back. And our best bet to do that is you, Agent Prentiss."

"There you go, luv," Clyde said as he gave Emily's shoulder a squeeze. "It'll be rocky, but we all have to keep focused on the job here and your friends will too."

Emily nodded and gave a small smile of thanks to the two men. Williams re-started the elevator and after a few seconds traveling in silence, the bell chimed alerting them to their arrival at the BAU floor.

Emily had an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu as she walked towards the glass doors. Two years ago she was walking out of them and like that time, the scene was eerily similar. A large group of people were gathered inside their focus on someone speaking at the front of the room. Only this time, Emily was walking towards the group and not away, but the reason they were all here was the same: Ian Doyle.

She pushed open the glass doors and slipped inside, Clyde and Frank following her. She could now hear a familiar voice speaking from the front of the room.

"And the head of this task force should be arriving at any moment. She's well acquainted with Ian Doyle and will be able to anticipate his actions better than anyone." A movement in the crowd made JJ stopped and a smile appeared on her face as she watched Emily emerge from the crowd.

JJ moved forward and not caring how it looked she gave her friend a hug. "I missed you," she whispered in Emily's ear. "I am so glad you're back."

Emily returned the hug, keeping her tears at bay. "I just wish it wasn't this way."

JJ pulled back and nodded understandingly. She saw Emily's eyes looking at someone behind her and JJ turned her head. Garcia and Reid stood their, looking at them uncertainly. Anger, disbelief, happiness, a multitude of emotions were written clearly on their faces and it paralyzed them both. Finally, Penelope let out a strangled sound and hurried forward to grab Emily into a bear hug.

"I'm still mad as Hell," Garcia sobbed. "But I'm so happy to see you!" She pulled back and wiped at her tears. "When we get the guys back, I'll yell at you and then we'll go shopping and eat ice cream and make inappropriate comments about the men at work."

Emily let out a watery laugh and then looked over at the young man who had yet to move. He gave her a small wave and then his face crumpled before he too came forward to embrace Emily.

"Don't ever leave us again," he whimpered in her hair.

The tears did come this time and she fiercely returned Reid's hug. She had been worried about him, his headaches, his fears and how he found it hard to relate to others, even sometimes to the members of their BAU team. She knew in a many ways she had been his anchor and she had wondered what he would do in her absence. She stroked his hair and whispered like a mother would to her frightened child.

"It's going to be all right, Spencer."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for the comments and feedback. This is my first Criminal Minds fan fic so there is always the question of whether how I'm seeing the characters is how others see them as well, so I do appreciate feed back on whether you felt I've "captured" someone. Personally, after watching "Lauren", I can't see how anyone cannot see Prentiss as a bit of a badass. And I'm also glad some folks are liking the plot I've laid out so far. I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

She was quick, efficient and brutally honest about the horrors Ian Doyle was capable of inflicting. She saw Garcia and JJ pale at some of her descriptions, but ruthlessly ignored them, needing to focus on what had to be done. They needed to know what they were dealing with here and they needed to know fast. There also wasn't a damn thing they could do until Ian Doyle made his first move. Emily didn't say that last part aloud, but she suspected that at least her former BAU teammates knew that was what she was doing when she started divvying up the assignments. As the other agency representatives scattered to work on what was essentially busy work for them, Emily inclined her head towards Hotch's office, indicating that Clyde, JJ, Reid and Garcia should follow her.

When the door closed after JJ, Emily turned around to face them. "Look, I know you guys are feeling hurt, betrayed and bewildered right now, but our main goal here is to get back the others. You can yell at me afterwards, but right now, we focus on them."

"Do you think they're still alive?" Penelope asked in a tremulous voice.

Emily bit her lip. "I do. Doyle's main goal is bringing me out of hiding. He's pissed at me and he'll want to make me suffer, both physically and emotionally. That's why I don't think he's hurting them. Much."

Garcia shivered. "Much?"

"One thing about Ian is that he's incredibly efficient. He won't waste energy torturing any of the guys when I'm not there to see it. He'll want me to watch what he does to them because he knows it'll be torture for _me_. However, if they provoke Doyle, he will react."

"Oh great, he's got Morgan," JJ muttered.

"Hotch and Rossi should be able to keep him in line if they're together," Emily replied, confidently.

"Maybe Rossi, but not Hotch," Reid said.

Emily's brow furrowed and she looked over at the young man. "What are you talking about? Hotch knows how to handle these situations, he's not going to lose his cool."

"Hotch has been having a hard time since you…" like Williams, Reid also fumbled for the right word. "left. We all have, but Hotch seemed to take it especially hard. I guess it's because he felt he didn't do all he could to protect you."

Emily nodded sadly. "Yes," she sighed. "He does take it so personally, not being able to fix or control things…" She sighed again. How many lives has she screwed up or ruined? She never wanted this and none of her friends deserved it, especially Hotch who had seen so much loss in the last few years.

Emily mentally shook herself. If she truly wanted to help Hotch and the others, she needed to push aside all her regrets, feelings and doubts. She needed to focus and she needed to focus on Ian Doyle.

"Emily," Reid asked hesitantly. "All those assignments you gave to the other agencies, why were they so…?" Reid paused again.

"Useless?" Emily supplied with a small grin. "It's because they are. It's busy work for them." She went over to the window and peered through the blinds at the bullpen where the other agents scurried about trying to complete the tasks Emily had given them.

"We won't find Doyle, he's going to find us. Or namely me," Emily continued, her back still to the others. "All we can do is wait until he gets in touch."

JJ sucked in her breath. "Bait. My God, Emily, you're going to use your self as bait!"

"JJ, I'm not going to start wandering the streets of DC," Emily sighed, as she turned around to face them. . "We have no clue where Doyle is. When I knew him, his network didn't reach this far south. If it did, I would have hunted him down when he was in the area two years ago. This is something new that he established. So right now, all we can do is wait for him to contact me in some way."

"But when he does, you're going to tell us right?" JJ persisted. "You're not going to go off and go after him alone like you did last time."

"Of course there'll be a plan to deal with him," Emily said, a split second too late.

"Besides the slight pause, you also didn't answer JJ's question," Reid said sharply.

"Emily," Garcia moved closer to her. "You aren't doing this by your self." When the brunette merely stared at her, the tech analyst exploded. "Are you insane? No! No! You don't get to put us through the wringer like that again! You don't get to decide that you sacrifice yourself for us! You don't make that choice for us, Emily!"

"Penelope's right," JJ chimed in when she saw her friend about to argue, her own anger bubbling to the surface. "You took those choices away from us, Em. Who the hell are you to decide how what we do?"

"I was trying to protect you and your families," Emily shot back in a tight voice.

"But you're our family too," Spencer said quietly. He stepped between the arguing women and put his hands on Emily's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Intellectually, I understand your reasons and even agree with them on some level. It made sense to draw Doyle's attention away from us. It minimized the danger, the damage, the loss of lives. But emotionally, Emily, it was just wrong."

"You guys didn't know what you were dealing with," the tears had begun to fall from her eyes. "Doyle, he's unlike anything this team has ever seen before. Not even the terrorists cells we've dealt with have his reach or power."

Reid nodded gently. "And that's all true, but the fact remains you were a part of our family. Still are and we stand together. You've protected us all more times and in more ways than I can count, Emily and you know I can go pretty high. You've always protected all of us, but Emily, who protects you?"

"I don't need to be protected," she whispered.

"Sorry, hon," Garcia interjected softly as she stepped up next to Reid. "That's not how it works in families. It's sort of quid pro quo. You protected us, and we're going to protect you."

"All of us," JJ replied as she stepped into the space on the other side of Reid. "We're in this together, Em, whether you want it that way or not."

"Then you're all damn fools," Emily sniffled as she allowed Reid to draw her into a comforting hug. JJ and Garcia completed it as they too wrapped their arms around the couple.

Emily opened her eyes and looked over Reid's shoulder at Clyde who had remained silent this entire time. They exchanged looks and he nodded, quietly slipping out of the room.

Prentiss closed her eyes and her brow furrowed. _What was going to happen next will be so hard for them to take._

* * *

Hotch, Rossi and Morgan stared at Doyle in disbelief. Hotch recovered first.

"And now I know you have become delusional," he stated flatly. "Emily died in Boston from a stab wound you inflicted. Massive trauma to the abdomen from a sharp wooden stake. I read the autopsy report and it listed every single blow you landed on her. The torture you inflicted. And because of that, she died on the operating table."

JJ hadn't wanted him to read the autopsy report, but he had insisted. Going through the list injuries, he could imagine each blow, all the pain she suffered. Reading and imagining what happened was worse than listening to Emily being beaten by Cyrus Benjamin. However the one item that enraged him beyond belief, made his blood boil that nothing short of Ian Doyle's head on a pike would appease him in any way, was reading about the four-leaf clover brand this monster put on Emily's chest.

"The brand," Hotch hissed out, his stare unwavering, never noticing the surprised and shocked looks of Morgan and Rossi.

"Brand? What brand?" Derek cried out. "You branded her you bastard?"

Doyle smiled almost fondly. They could see his eyes grow soft and the other men felt their hatred for him blossom to new heights.

"Ah, yes, my brand. So she'll forever be known as mine." He looked at Hotch, whose face had darkened even more. The BAU's leader's expression seemed to amuse Doyle. "I'm sure Agent Hotchner you can understand. A man has to make known what is his and since Lau-, Emily, threw away the ring I gave her, why, I just had to make sure she wouldn't get rid of my mark so easily again."

"You sadistic son of a bitch," Hotch hissed out. Rossi shot him a startled look, only having heard Hotch swear a handful of times in the twenty years the men had known each other. "You bastard. I will rip your head off."

Doyle let out an amused laugh. "I think that will never happen, Agent Hotchner." His eyes hardened and a malicious look spread across his face. "Tell me, did you ever get a chance to taste her? Feel what it was like to be inside of her." His voice dropped to a low pitch, smooth and seductive with his Irish brogue. "Her skin is so soft, softer than rose petals, especially on her inner thighs. And what pleasure is found there, Agent Hotchner. How soft and willing her body is. Have you ever heard the sounds she makes? You never know it, but she's all soft. Her skin, the noises when she cries out as you thrust into her. A man can drown in Emily Prentiss."

Hotch let out a growl and tried to lunge forward. "You were nothing to her, Doyle! Nothing! She was only with you because she had to be. Ordered to be. You think a woman like Emily Prentiss would want anything to do with you? That she would give you the time of day? That she ever had feelings for you? You meant nothing to her!'

Doyle's face flushed in anger and he stepped forward, his large hand balled into a fist to throw a hard punch at Hotch's jaw. The BAU's leader's head jerked backwards as he fell back into the chair, but he bounced back immediately, snarling and glaring defiantly at the other man, shouting, "You meant nothing to her!" Doyle raised his fist again when Rossi, frantic to draw attention away from Hotch, shouted.

"You said she was alive! That's impossible! Emily died two years ago! We were out her funeral!"

Doyle's arm was still raised, his hand still curled into a fist, staring as Hotch glared at him, daring Ian to hit him again. Though his arm trembled, slowly he dropped it and looked over at Rossi.

"She must have faked her death or someone did," Doyle replied, anger still coloring his words. He took a deep breath to gain some semblance of control. "A little birdie told me she might not be dead so I dug up her grave and guess what I found there? Nothing. A coffin loaded with bricks." He let out laugh, the anger he had shown with Hotch, dissipating. "She always knew how to plan, that one. A clever little minx." He shot Hotch a sly and evil look. "Both in and out of bed." He nodded in satisfaction when he saw the look on Hotch's face. Doyle leaned forward towards Aaron and drawled out, "So tell me, Agent Hotchner, what do _you_ mean to Emily if she could fake her death for two years and you knew nothing about it?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N 1: I know some folks are hating Ian Doyle, but I have to admit, I'm having fun writing this guy and his conversations with Hotch. Thanks again for the reviews and kind words on the story. Its very encouraging!**

Hotch froze, his breath caught in his throat. "I don't know what sick game you're playing Doyle, but Emily is gone. Maybe this is remorse showing. You regret killing her so you've fabricated this elaborate fantasy where she's alive."

Doyle sighed and rolled his eyes. He bent down and leaned his hands on the arms of Hotch's chair. Their faces were close together as blue locked onto brown. He spoke softly, again that Irish lilt making his voice sound almost soothing.

"You're a profiler, are you not? You're used to dealing with the sickos and crazies of the world, so I forgive you for not immediately recognizing that I am a sane man who doesn't see unicorns flitting about telling me to murder little old ladies in their beds. If I was, I wouldn't have the extensive network I do or the men who work so loyally for me. I don't imagine things and I don't feel remorse." He pulled back and leaned against the small table, crossing his arms in front of him.

"It was really quite smart of her," Doyle continued as Hotch digested his words. It had become that now, a dialogue between this man and Aaron. Rossi and Morgan had faded into the background for him. His entire focus was on Hotchner, at least until he had Emily.

There was something in the other man's dark gaze and face that let him know there was something more in his heart for Emily than mere friendship. He had seen that look before. Was it not the same one he had worn on his own face at times when he thought of Lauren? What Emily felt for Hotchner, Ian did not know, but he'd be damned if another man coveted what was his.

"If she remained alive, I wouldn't have allowed her or any of you peace." He smiled in mock apology. "Sorry, but ah, all's fair in love and war. No, the fake death was very smart, but the stroke of absolute genius was not letting any of you know. Your grief, your mourning, all of it, so real because you thought it was. But all this time, dear Emily was simply pulling the strings, manipulating all of us."

A ghost of a smile played on Hotch's lips and it threw Ian. He glared at the dark-haired man, puzzled by his reactions.

"You find something amusing?"

"For a man who professes to know Emily Prentiss so _intimately_," Hotch sneered out that last word, "You fail to know who she really is. She wasn't manipulating anyone or anything. She was doing what Emily does, protecting the people she loves." He eyed Doyle triumphantly. "She loves _us_. She was protecting _us_ because she loves _us_."

They watched a flurry of emotions, anger, hurt, annoyance, flit across his face. His jaw tensed and they saw him move it a little as he rolled his neck, trying to regain control.

"You know, Agent Hotchner," Doyle began as he fished something out of his jacket pocket, a folded piece of paper that appeared to be well creased from much handling. "You and I aren't all that different. In fact, we have many things in common."

"I have nothing in common with you," Hotch spat out, repulsed by the idea that he shared anything with this man.

"Well, there is Emily," Doyle replied coyly. He unfolded the paper from his pocket and flipped it around to show the other men, but specifically Hotch. The BAU leader froze when he saw what it was. "You've been carrying around this photo for a while judging by the creases in it. Now, tell me, how can you say we have nothing in common when it appears that you would like nothing better but than to have Emily mother your child much like I wanted her to do with Declan?"

The photo had been taken on Jack's first birthday after Haley's death. His team had rallied around him, coming to the little boy's party, helping Jessica out with the preparations and providing additional adult supervision and distraction so he would not have to do anything but concentrated on his son. Garcia had been madly snapping digital photos the entire time and after the party had given Hotch both an electronic and hard copy of the event in the form of a lovely bound book she had gone through the trouble of laying out and having printed up to memorialize the event. Most of the photos had been of Jack and himself, but she had included some of the team, typically in group shots. But not this one.

He remembered when it had happened. The party had been at a park, a sunny, warm day that brought a little normalcy in their lives. Rossi along with Will Lamontaine were working the grill along with another parent of one of the child guests. Jessica and JJ were supervising some of the children playing some game with Morgan while Reid entertained a few children and adults alike with his magic tricks. Garcia had been flitting from group to group taking pictures. But Emily was sitting alone, under the shade of a tree and on a blanket. Hotch, exhausted from running around threw himself down next to her. She gazed at him in amusement.

"Feeling a little worn down, Agent Hotchner?" she teased.

He gave her his best mock glare. "You try running after a just turned five year-old," he drawled out. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm getting too old for this."

Emily chuckled. "I've seen you chase after twenty-something UNSUBs for blocks without breaking a sweat, but a five year old boy has you licked."

He allowed a small grin to appear on his face and he scooted up into a sitting position, his hands clasped in front of him as his arms rested on his bent knees. They were silent as they watched Morgan suddenly swing Jack up in his arms and twirl him around. The boy screamed in delight and when Morgan stopped, he cried out, "Again, Uncle Derek! Again!"

Hotch's smile faltered and a look of sadness that he often hid, but Emily knew always lurked beneath the surface appeared on his face in this one unguarded moment.

"You're doing great," she said gently. When he looked at her questioningly she reached out to place a gentle hand on his arm. "Jack. You're doing a terrific job with him. You're a good father, Aaron Hotchner, never doubt that."

"It's just that, sometimes, it all seems overwhelming," he whispered, his eyes never leaving his laughing child. "That it's almost too much for me to handle."

"You're not alone, Hotch," Emily continued as she followed his gaze. "Jessica and the team. Your family is here. You don't have to do this alone."

He turned to look at her and gazed at her profile. Feeling his eyes on her, Emily turned her head and gave him a small smile. A breeze blew a few dark, silken strands across her face, emphasizing even more the creamy paleness of her skin. She had worn a dark pink dress today, something soft and devastatingly feminine, surprising Hotch since he was used to seeing her in her professional and efficient work wear. But it suited her and her name, Emily Rose, for she did look like a rose in her pink dress with her dark hair and delicate skin. Hotch felt a small stirring in a part of him that he thought was long dead and cold as he gazed into her warm, dark eyes.

Hotch didn't know what would have happened next and he would never find out as a small missile suddenly barreled into them.

"Daddy!" Jack cried as he threw himself at the two adults, disrupting whatever the moment was they were having between them.

Both of them laughed, in amusement, maybe in relief and maybe in regret.

"Did you see me fly? Uncle Derek played airplane with me!" Jack squealed in delight as he wriggled about.

Hotch laughed and tried to corral his active child who was hopped up on excitement and unfortunately more sugar than he was used to. "I did, buddy," Hotch replied as Jack continued to squirm about.

"Did you see, Emmy? Did you?" Jack asked excitedly as he eluded his father's grasp to launch himself into Emily's arms and lap.

She laughed and got her arms around him to draw him close to her. "I did. And boy, did you really go high! While Uncle Derek is good, I bet you that Daddy probably does the best at playing airplane, right?"

Jack nodded solemnly as some of the sugar rush left him and he cuddled closer into Emily. A lump formed in Hotch's throat as he watched his son burrow closer into the woman's embrace. He knew that while Jessica loved Jack, his child still saw her as Aunt Jessica and had placed her firmly in the role of an aunt and no more. JJ was preoccupied with her own child and Garcia, while a favorite of Jack's, didn't really equate to mother material in the little boy's eyes. So Jack had been drawn to Emily in the wake of Haley's death. Given the lack of women in Hotch's life, it was inevitable that the boy would lock onto her warmth, compassion and loving nature when he looked for someone to fill that motherly role.

She raised her eyes and saw the conflicting emotions in Hotch's face. Emily smiled reassuringly. She had told him before she hadn't minded Jack's attachment to her, that he would sometimes out of the blue ask Hotch to call "Emmy" and when Hotch couldn't divert Jack's attention to something else, he would dial her number. Everyone else on his team was "uncle" or "aunt", but the little boy had his own nickname for Emily Prentiss, a name that Hotch noted was close to "mommy". "He's fine right here, aren't you buddy?" Emily said softly as he turned his nose into her neck.

Jack nodded. "You smell nice, Emmy."

Emily laughed softly and for a moment, Hotch felt a flash of envy for his son who was allowed the opportunity to burrow his nose into the crook of Emily Prentiss' neck and inhale what he knew would be a sweet and devastating scent.

"This is so cute!" Garcia burst out as she came upon the tableaux. "Okay, sir, get in closer so I can get a picture!"

Hotch hesitated, but then scooted over closer to Emily and Jack. Then in a decision that some part of him chastised him for even considering while another part of him cheered him on, he wrapped his arm around Emily's shoulders and drew her closer to him. Instinctively, their heads touched as they leaned towards each other and Jack turned around to look into the camera.

That was the picture that Doyle held in his hands now and Hotch could not help but feel that just by touching it, the man was soiling that beautiful memory he had been carrying around with him.

"Pretty family picture, no?" Doyle continued as Hotch remained silent. He gazed at the photo and continued to speak in a soft voice. "No, Agent Hotchner, we aren't all that different. This is what I wanted as well. A beautiful woman to love, a mother to my boy." He flipped the photo around towards Hotch again. "Tell me that you don't crave this? Want this perfect picture. Want her to love and cherish your child and then to have her to love and be cherished in your bed. That's all I ever wanted." His eyes hardened and he leaned forward. "And then the bitch betrayed me!" Doyle spat out. "Took my son away and continues to keep him away from me. Can you honestly say that if she had done the same to you, you wouldn't hunt her down, make her pay?"

"No," Hotch replied calmly, his famous iron control coming into play as his emotions warred with each other internally. "Because that would have never had happened in my case. Unlike you, it would have never had come to that with my child. You deliberately placed your son in the line of fire with your work and selfishly kept him there. When that happened with me, I loved my son enough to let him go, to protect him. That's why we're not the same, Doyle. I love my son. You simply possessed him, just like you only want to possess Emily."

He didn't have time to prepare himself for the punch that Doyle let fly. He landed two more punches as Derek and Rossi cried out in anger. Doyle pulled back as a trickle of blood flowed from a cut on Hotch's lip. The FBI man grinned at him.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Doyle," Hotch taunted.

Ian took some deep breaths even though he was still trembling with rage. He rubbed a hand over his face and then shot Hotch a dark look. "Ah yes, when your son went into the witness protection program. Considering your experience with that, you would think you would have caught on to Emily's ruse two years ago. They had to leave because of, what was he called? The Reaper, correct?" Ian picked up something from the table and the men could see it was a large hunting knife. "What precipitated that was an attack on you in your own home, was it not? Nine stab wounds from what I understand?"

Doyle's intent became clear and while Hotch gazed back at him unemotionally, Derek went into a frenzy.

"You son of a bitch!" the other agent shouted. "If you were any type of a man, you'd untie me now and we'd settle this! You stay the Hell away from him! You bastard!"

Doyle ignored him as he gazed at Hotch. "Nine stab wounds. Hmmm, all missing vital organs." He bent down to look at Hotch. "Let's see if I'm as good with anatomy." He pressed the tip of the knife against Hotch's side.

* * *

Emily sighed as she sat alone in Hotch's office. She gazed out into the bullpen as everyone bustled about, thinking they were accomplishing something, but knowing that they were only killing time, waiting until Ian Doyle made his move.

She hated this, the waiting, the helplessness, but knew that nothing could be done about it. She sighed again and began to root around in Hotch's files, sure that he would have the most complete information on Doyle that the team had gathered in the past two years. Maybe there was some hint there about any operations he could have in the area. It might be something the team and Hotch wouldn't notice, but with her greater knowledge of Doyle, she might.

She opened one drawer and pulled back in surprise when she discovered a photo. Slowly, she pulled it out, recognizing that it had been taken at Jack's birthday party. She knew Garcia had been madly photographing the event and she had even flipped through the photos herself, but she didn't remember this one.

It was a solo shot and she was staring off into the far distance at something. The wind was blowing her hair and the sun lightly touched her skin, bathing her in a warm glow that was enhanced by the flattering color of the pink dress she wore. Objectively, Emily could say it was one of the best photos she had ever taken, but it felt odd to find a photo of herself in Hotch's desk drawer. However, what made her heart ache was not its discovery but the fact that there were splotches of smeared ink on the photo, distorting it in a few places.

Splotches that were likely caused by falling tears.

* * *

**A/N 2: Folks may disagree, but I do see many parallels between Hotch and Ian Doyle. It's almost as if Doyle is Hotch had Hotch gone the wrong way. There's the son each is willing to do whatever it takes to have in his life, the loss of the mother/lover, the cold efficiency and the potential for violence and rage when pushed to a breaking point. And of course, there's Emily Prentiss. And personally, watching some of the old episodes, I think they had been flirting a bit on the show with Hotch/Prentiss in seasons 3 (or maybe that's when they started to notice the mad chemistry between the two actors) -part of 5 but with Paget Brewster's departure or maybe what they thought would only be a reduced amount of episodes but she would still be attached to the show, they started to pull back because they didn't know if she would be around to continue such an arc.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you again for the kind reviews. While this is really mainly a Hotch/Prentiss story, I am trying to give all the characters a fair shake. It'll be more Hotch/Prentiss later on, but because I have to deal with the Doyle issue and Emily's return that's why you're seeing so much of the others. So apologies to those readers who thought it would jump into Hotch/Emily sooner, but I do promise that stuff will be coming down the road. **

Spencer Reid watched Emily Prentiss like a hawk. It had not escaped his attention that Emily had still failed to promise any of them that she would not go after Doyle on her own. From his desk, he watched as she came out of Hotch's office, a troubled look on her face. She stood on the elevated level and gazed out at the busy bullpen. Her eyes locked with his and he gave her a small smile and a nod of his head that she returned with a wry one of her own.

The Interpol man, Clyde Easter came up to her and spoke to her in a low voice, turning his body so his back was towards the bullpen. _All the harder to read your lips_, Reid thought.

He didn't exactly like or dislike Clyde Easter. He simply didn't trust the Briton. And he seemed far too close to Emily. It was jealousy, Spencer was honest enough to admit that filled him, but not in the way a lover or boyfriend would be jealous. He was jealous because Emily seemed to confide in Easter, trust him, more than she trusted her BAU family. She turned to Easter for help when Doyle re-appeared in her life and turned to him again when she went into hiding.

Intellectually, Reid understood Emily felt she couldn't confide in anyone but her former Interpol colleagues two years ago because the classified nature of the Doyle case tied her hands. But when she was presumed dead? Two years and the one person she calls for help is Clyde Easter? He knew he didn't have the whole story, but it was clear that Easter knew a hell of a lot sooner than he or anyone else at the BAU did that Emily was still alive.

Except for JJ.

Reid could understand Emily keeping quiet. She felt her presence would endanger them all. But how could JJ just stand by and watch them all grieve for Emily for two years? How could she have kept quiet as they all died a little when they lowered her coffin into the grave? Stand by as this team, a group of people she called family, tried to find their way without one of the most important people in their lives?

He wondered if he ever truly knew JJ.

Spencer watched as Clyde rested his hand on Emily's shoulder and whispered into her ear. She kept her eyes glued on the bullpen. They had drawn attention to their faces, the upper part of their bodies with the way their heads were tilted, the hand on her shoulder, so anyone else would have missed it, but Reid was a master of the sleight of hand.

He clearly saw Easter slip into Emily's jacket pocket some small object.

* * *

"The next number is AZ443578X702," JJ read off from a slip of paper.

Garcia dutifully typed it in and called up the bank account. While they waited for Doyle to make contact, Emily and Clyde had supplied the others with bank account numbers for some of Doyle's operations. It was a long shot, but they were hoping they could find some type of money trail that might offer a clue as to where Doyle could now be in the DC/Virginia/Maryland area.

"Or he could be in Delaware, Pennsylvania or even New York," Reid had noted. "We're not that far from there and we have no idea if he has his own private plane and is using small airfields with an alias or a henchman you're not aware of."

All of which Emily admitted could be true, but it was better than sitting idly by. Besides, if anyone could find a hint of a money trail, it would be Garcia.

The woman in question grunted in acknowledgment as the bank records popped up. Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she tried to find some trace that would offer up a clue as to where her missing friends were located.

JJ watched in silence for a few minutes and then finally asked. "Okay, you want to tell me what's bother you?"

"Why do you think anything is bothering me?" Garcia asked without turning around.

"Because we've been in here for almost a half hour and all I've gotten out of you is three sentences and a series of grunts," JJ replied. She paused a moment before saying quietly. "You're mad because I didn't tell you about Emily."

Garcia's hand slammed down on her desk and she spun around in her chair to glare at JJ. "You're damn straight I'm mad! I'm furious! My fury is the wattage of a thousand suns and still burning! How could you, JJ? How could you keep quiet knowing how much we were all missing Emily and blaming ourselves for not saving her?"

"Penelope, you've got to understand, I had to keep quiet to protect her," JJ begged.

"Oh, the same thing Emily's been saying!" the other woman scoffed. "You both keep trying to protect the rest of us, but JJ, you didn't, not really." Garcia sighed and took off her glasses. She rubbed her eyes and then replaced them. She looked sadly at JJ. "You haven't been around much lately. You haven't seen what Emily's-," she couldn't bring herself to say "death", "departure, did to us. My God JJ, Reid's been walking around like the walking dead. Derek and I are just barely hanging on. Poor Rossi is trying to keep us all together, and Hotch! JJ, you haven't seen what all of this has done to Hotch." She cocked her head and peered sharply at the other woman. "You haven't seen what all of this has done. We haven't seen you that much in two years. You started pulling back from us! You were trying to make sure it all stayed a secret so you avoided us!"

JJ"s face was pale and tight, but she tiled her chin defiantly. "Yes, and it killed me. All of it, but given the choice I would have done the exact same thing if it meant keeping Emily and the rest of you, not to mention Henry and Will safe. Hate me if you want, curse me, but I'm not ashamed one damn bit over what I did because I did it for the people I love the most."

Garcia stared at her friend, so tiny and blonde and pretty, it was always easy to forget the layer of steel that ran through Jennifer Jareau. The tech analyst grunted again and turned back to her computer. "I didn't say I hated you," she muttered. "Just that I was pissed. There's a difference."

Her back turned, Penelope didn't see the look of confusion cross JJ's face nor how it slowly relaxed into a wry smile. She leaned forward and laid her hand lightly on Garcia's shoulder. Without looking at her friend, Penelope reached up to pat the hand gently with her own. Then both women settled back down to work.

* * *

Hotch felt the cold steel of the blade sink into his flesh and the tip piercing the skin, drawing blood and slipping slowly into his body. His face remained immobile and he stared defiantly and silently back at Doyle. He saw a brief look of admiration in the Irishman's face.

"You've got balls, Hotchner," Doyle said grimly.

"Sir!"

Doyle sighed and withdrew the knife which had only made a shallow cut into Hotch's torso. "Yes?"

One of Doyle's lackey's came forward and whispered something into his boss' ear. The BAU men saw Doyle's face light up and he nodded his head gently.

"You'll have to excuse me," he said in mock politeness. He cleaned the small amount of blood from the knife blade with a white handkerchief and placed both items on the small table. "I have something I need to attend too." He turned around and with his man following him, left the room.

"Hotch! Are you alright?" Rossi asked as soon as their captors were out of earshot.

Hotch nodded, his eyes still gazing at the doorway Doyle had gone through. "Minor cut. What do you guys think? Are we dealing with a delusional sociopath or…" He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Or is Emily really alive?" Derek finished. "He certainly believes it. But come on, Hotch, would Emily really stay away? Let us mourn her? And JJ saw her. She saw Emily's…body."

"Unless JJ was in on it," Hotch said quietly, his mind going over events. "It was a closed casket funeral. Reid tried to say goodbye to Emily at the hospital and JJ blocked him." He remembered his own brief conversation with her in the hallway.

"_It'll be okay," JJ said to him._

"_I know," he had replied, thinking she was referring to his grieving team and how they would get over this loss. They would muddle through somehow, of that he had no doubt._

But they hadn't really, and now as he thought back to the conversation, the way JJ's mourning had just been a little too reserved, too controlled at Emily's funeral. Then JJ's withdrawal from them afterwards, it added up to a secret.

Damn, JJ knew.

"Dave," Hotch swung his head to his old friend who had remained very quite.

Rossi was silent and looking straight ahead. After a few heartbeats he turned to look at Aaron and the younger man knew that he had been thinking the same thing.

"The coffin," Dave finally spoke. "There something that wasn't right about the lining when I was looking at the smashed coffin. There were red streaks on it and there's no red clay in that area. I also found a small piece of brick there."

As Rossi's words sank in, the men began to go over minor things over the last two years that didn't seem to feel right but had not set off any alarms initially. JJ distancing herself from them, the lack of opportunity to see Emily one more time, the desecration of her grave.

"All this time, Emily has been alive?" Derek asked in disbelief as he too began to wonder if Doyle wasn't as mad as they originally thought. "How could she be? I mean, how could she have let us think she was dead?"

"To protect us," Rossi sighed. He shook his head over the bravery and selfishness of his friend, even though he wanted to shake her senseless for doing this on her own. "This was exactly what she was trying to avoid, Doyle focusing on us to punish her or to lure her to him. Something went wrong and he found out Emily was still alive."

"But she let us mourn her!" Derek was upset and angry. "I don't know how many times I had to watch Garcia just burst into tears. All this time, she's wandering this Earth alive-"

"And alone," Hotch interjected quietly, imagining what Emily had to endure for two years. He saw the extent of her injuries in Boston. Did they even give her time to recover? Or was she simply sent out on her own? "Hurt. Wounded. By herself. And needing to hide her true identity. Always looking over her shoulder." The punches and the knife didn't hurt, but this realization of what Emily likely went through by herself, all to protect them, that cut deep into his soul. God, if she only had come to him. He would have moved Heaven and Earth to protect her.

But that wasn't his Emily. She was a protector, not the protected.

"So what happens now?" Morgan asked.

Rossi sighed. "Judging by that maniacal smile our friend had on his face, I think he just got word that Emily was spotted."

Hotch let out a breath. "I just hope to God she doesn't try to do something on her own."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: I know some people might feel I'm a bit slow in moving the plot along, but I do find the whole emotional/psychological elements interesting and important to the story. There will be quite a bit of action soon and I do want to say there are little clues and hints dropped in every part. I don't typically write something unless there's a reason. Hope you enjoy!**_

Emily Prentiss rubbed her weary eyes and stared at her reflection in the ladies room mirror. Hotch and the others had been missing for 27 hours and she had been awake for about 39 hours. Her eyes felt gritty and her body ached with exhaustion. She splashed cold water on her face and ran her fingers along her skin, rubbing in the cold water in an attempt to make herself more alert. Everyone was working in shifts, with some taking naps while others continued to work. Even Garcia, JJ and Reid have taken short breaks as had Clyde, but Emily refused. She stared at her reflection.

This was all happening because of her. Doyle wouldn't have even touched any of them if she hadn't joined the team. She thought back to her early days and the suspicion and distrust they all felt her first year with the team. They had a right to be wary. She had brought nothing but trouble to their lives.

Emily continued to stare at her reflection. She had changed her hair color to a lighter, chestnut brown and it was much longer, reaching down to the middle of her back. She had lost weight since her time in the BAU, her body now more toned than ever, a dangerous whip of lean muscle and strength. She had needed that strength, the accompanying quickness in her quest to break up Doyle's operations. Dark shadows were under her eyes and she was hard pressed to remember a time when they weren't there. Her mouth thinned into a grim line of determination. With quick hands, she pulled her hair back into a neat pony tail and secured it with a rubber band she had taken from Hotch's desk.

_This ends now_, Emily vowed. When the others were safe, she would make sure she couldn't ever hurt them again, no matter what it took.

* * *

Alive. Emily could be alive.

Derek Morgan didn't know whether to laugh or curse. On the one hand, he was thrilled that his friend was still among the living. On the other hand, he was livid that she had put him and the others through emotional Hell. Didn't Prentiss learn anything about tangling with Doyle two years ago?

Apparently, she did. She learned it was better to hide. Though, seeing the bastard up close and now knowing what he was capable of, a part of Derek couldn't blame her for feeling that way. The guy was definitely scary and what made him even more dangerous than the usual bits of unwanted humanity they dealt with was that he was perfectly rational, crafty, resourceful and smart. He was ruthless, efficient, deadly, and had extensive resources to make someone's life a living Hell. Yeah, running may not have been a bad idea.

But she had _them_! They would have protected her. But how long would they have been able to keep that up? It wasn't like it was with Hotch and Foyet. Foyet was one man. A very sick and dangerous man, but he didn't have an entire army behind him and he didn't go personally after Hotch after that first time. Doyle had resources unlike anyone they had dealt with before. What could their small team of six, if you counted JJ, do?

Maybe running and faking her death was the only way.

Would Hotch be willing to risk Jack? JJ risk Henry and Will? Would he risk his mother and sisters' lives?

No.

And if anything had happened to them, their children, sisters, mothers and significant others, how would they look at Emily then? Doyle would have been responsible, but he knew that at some point, they would start to look at her as the reason they had lost someone they loved. He knew Hotch didn't let a day go by without blaming himself for Haley's death. They would begin to blame her and shun her and then Emily would have been alone again; all because they would have insisted on protecting her.

No, Fate, Ian Doyle and they themselves gave Emily Prentiss no other choice but to run and hide, letting them believe she was dead, and that realization made Derek hurt all over again. He felt pain for Emily, for his friends, for himself.

Derek Morgan made a silent promise, that no matter what happened, Doyle will die so Emily could stop running and live her life once again.

* * *

Dave Rossi glanced worriedly at Aaron Hotchner. It was a look he had been giving the Unit Chief for the better part of two years, ever since they believed Emily Prentiss had met her maker. Since that time, their usually stoic, hard-assed boss had become even more of a hard-assed, stoic man, but he'd also become easily irritable, angry and reckless at times.

He knew that Aaron had the capability of erupting into violence when pushed to his limit. The incident with Foyet showed that though Rossi completely understood and heck, if he had gotten there earlier, would have happily assisted Hotch in beating the life out of the scumbag. And challenging local law enforcement or yelling at underlings at the FBI was one thing, but deliberately getting in the face of their captor for no good reason but to show who was the true alpha male? That was just dumb and the Aaron Hotchner he knew was not dumb.

Rossi knew he had to pull Aaron back. When Doyle had threatened to re-create Foyet's handiwork on Hotch, the older profiler had no clue what to do to try to stop him. But what was even more frightening to Dave, was watching the defiant, almost triumphant look on Hotch's face. Doyle had seen it as courage, and in large part it was, but it was also reckless, stupid and likely took ten years off of Rossi's life.

Though, if they didn't figure out a way out of this mess or the cavalry didn't come a ridin' over the ridge soon, losing those ten years wouldn't matter much.

However if Hotch continued on his same path, Doyle wasn't going to let him see the next ten _hours_.

Doyle was different from their usual UNSUBs. He was meticulous, cautious and practical. He was also efficient and wouldn't waste time and energy on anything or anyone unless it served his needs and goals. Right now, his goal was to get Emily and make her watch their slow torture. Doyle _needed_ them in pretty good shape in order to get what he wanted from her. There was no need to hurt them until she was here and in fact, since their capture, he and Derek hadn't been touched.

However, Hotch was goading the man, daring him to inflict pain and Doyle had been happy to comply. Rossi the Irishman had seen in Hotch what Dave had begun to suspect in the past two years. Whether it was actually love or not, Rossi knew Hotch harbored very deep feelings for Emily Prentiss, and that was driving Doyle crazy. And what was driving Hotch crazy was knowing this man had been with Emily in ways that Hotch had only dreamed about.

Two guys beating their chest over a woman was usually not a big deal, but it was a very big deal in this case. Hotch needed to keep his mouth shut and not react to Doyle's baiting and for sweet Lord's sake, not bait the man in turn. Dave's main concern right now was keeping a reckless Hotch from getting himself killed.

* * *

For the last two years, the only goal in Aaron's Hotchner's life was to hunt down Doyle and put a bullet through the man's head, whatever the price. Ironic considering when he was first asked to do that two years ago by Clyde Easter, his own ethics, his moral code, prevented him from agreeing to such a thing. That all changed when he thought Emily Prentiss had died at the Irishman's hand and he had wondered if he had been willing to go so far backed then, would they have saved her? Did his own integrity and, yes, smugness, get her killed? Because some part of him believed they would save her, an overwhelming confidence that they would succeed. How many times have they've saved victims before their captors could kill them? Surely that would happen again for Emily.

But it hadn't and she was gone. Or so they all thought.

She might as well have been dead though, separated and forced into hiding.

A part of him stirred in anger as he thought of what could only be called her betrayal. How could she make him, all of them suffer, like that? Did she think he wasn't capable of protecting her? That she would have some doubts insulted his professional and yes, masculine pride. Of course he would and most definitely could protect her. She was being ridiculous for believing otherwise.

Was it a matter of trust then? A matter of commitment, their commitment to her? Hotch thought back to when Emily was on his team and the many times she had sacrificed herself for them. She was willing to sacrifice her career to save his. She took a beating to protect Reid. She reached out countless times to each of them when they were drowning in their own personal hell. They never asked Emily Prentiss to martyr herself for them, but they had accepted it nonetheless. The one time she had asked for help, when her friend Matthew died, he had shut her down, resting on his own damn code of doing the right thing. Wasn't the right thing to help his friend? To help the woman he cared for so much? Instead, she had been met with skepticism by all of them save for Rossi and to a lesser extent Reid. How many times have the others pushed on cases that they felt some personal connection to and the team accepted and followed along willingly? Gideon, Reid, JJ, Rossi, Morgan, even himself, the team always gave them leeway, but when Emily asked that one time, they only threw doubts and road blocks in her way, with himself being the worst offender. Would you trust people like that?

Guilt, shame and yes, anger, ate away at Hotch. Maybe she was right to doubt them, and what would they have done if she had shared her secret? Would they look at her differently for hiding such a large part of her past from them? Look how some of them had reacted when they learned she had to pose as Doyle's lover. Morgan and Rossi had admitted it bothered them, made her seem a little less in their eyes. And it had troubled him, a great deal. He understood, intellectually, she did what her mission required her to do, but to imagine her willingly bedding such a man, pretending to enjoy it and wondering if perhaps she wasn't even pretending, it had angered him beyond belief and he shamefully felt some disgust towards her and himself for even having such feelings.

It made him wonder if the Emily he knew was even the real Emily. Afterall, she had managed to fool Doyle so much the man fell completely in love with her. Did the woman he knew, the woman he felt so strongly about even exist or had she merely been playing a character all along?

He should not be surprised that Emily Prentiss inspired such a complicated morass of emotions. Everything about his relationship with the woman was complicated. He wanted to hold her, keep her close and protect her. He wanted to keep her at arms length, afraid to get to close to her. He ached to see her again. He was angry with her. As Emily herself was a bundle of contradictions so were his feelings towards her.

Hotch shifted slightly, one thing he did know though, he had a new goal: to see Emily Prentiss one more time.

* * *

"So, what's going on between you and Easter?" Reid asked as he sidled up next to Emily in the bullpen. She was reading a report a representative from the CIA had just handed her.

"What to you mean?" she frowned at his tone which was sharp and suspicious.

Reid kept his voice low, but she could see more than one person interested. "I saw you two talking earlier. Pretty chummy. Don't forget he's partially responsible for this."

Prentiss sighed. "As am I. You can't blame Clyde for what's happened, he was only doing his job."

Reid narrowed his eyes at her. "You trust him more than us."

"Reid, it's not a matter of trust. He's just more familiar with the particulars."

"God, you haven't changed have you?" the young man snapped. "You and your secrets!" he spat out and then turned and walked away.

Emily could feel the heat in her cheeks as the other people in the bullpen pretended they didn't hear and see what had just happened. She picked up several other reports that had been handed to her and went up to Hotch's office. She closed the door and sat down at his desk, rubbing her tired eyes. She took a deep breath and began to shuffle through the pile she had just set down. A brown envelope with her name printed in block letters caught her eye. With a sense of trepidation, she gently slit it open. She shook out the contents and a pressed four-leaf clover fell out. Her mouth thinned into a line.

Doyle.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I want to say one thing, you may think this is a bit more of the same in this chapter, but there are clues on where some of the plot is going. **

"It must have come in through the mail earlier today," Frank Williams replied when briefed on the incident with the clover.

"There's no identifying markings on the envelope. Just Emily's name printed on it," Reid said as he looked closely at the plain, brown sleeve.

"It was probably in some other envelope and someone sorted the mail," Williams continued. "There's no other way it would have gotten in here. Ms. Garcia checked the tapes and it clearly shows the envelope in a mail delivery cart from this afternoon."

Reid saw Emily and Easter exchange glances.

"So, what does this all mean?" Garcia asked as she stared fearfully at the seemingly innocuous clover on the conference room table.

"It means Doyle will contact me soon," Emily replied grimly. "He'll probably set up a location he'll want me to go to."

"A trap," JJ stated.

Emily nodded. "A trap."

"He has to know we won't let you go alone to such a meeting," JJ continued.

"Which means he'll done one of two things, a forceful extraction resulting in potential casualties if anyone gets in his way, or he'll try something tricky and maybe kidnap me on my way to the meeting site." Emily's voice was cold and detached, causing her BAU friends to send sidelong glances at her.

"If Doyle wants the guys so they can be hurt in front of Emily," Penelope asked. "Then, wouldn't they be safer if we just keep Emily off the streets and here? I mean, he won't hurt them unless she's there to watch, right?"

"He'll probably then start to send back body parts as a way to encourage Emily to come to him. A finger, an ear…" Reid supplied. "Be glad that he hasn't sent any video or pictures of them being tortured to incentive Emily into a more compliant state. The lack of such evidence potentially increases the odds that they are in fairly good shape."

Garcia had paled at Reid's words and both JJ and Emily glared at him, chiding him for his thoughtless, if accurate assessment of the situation.

"That's not going to happen, Pen," Emily said as she laid a gentle hand on the tech analyst's shoulder.

Garcia shrugged off the hand and stood up unsteadily. "I-, I-, oh God!" She turned tear-filled eyes towards Prentiss. "I can't be here now. When I think of Derek possibly-. Why! Why did this have to happen? If only you hadn't come-!" She bit her lip and then sprung from her chair. Garcia ran out of the room with JJ following her.

"She's just upset," Williams said kindly to an obviously perturbed Prentiss.

"No," Emily replied quietly and sadly. "She's absolutely right, it's all my fault."

* * *

"It shouldn't be too long now, lads," Ian Doyle sang out cheerily as he came back into the room.

They all glared at him.

"You've seen Emily," Rossi asked, trying to take control of the situation and praying Hotch kept his mouth shut.

"Not yet, but I have confirmation she is indeed here," Doyle replied, a bright glimmer in his eye making the other men uncomfortable. If they didn't know better, Doyle would have given all the appearance of a love struck man waiting for his girl to arrive. In some ways, that was an accurate description but they knew he was also a ruthless killer and his obsession was Emily Prentiss.

"Where is she?" Dave asked, trying to not only find out more information, they were, after all, working in a bit of a vacuum, but also trying to find some leverage, something they could use to help them out of this situation.

"Surprisingly, she went to your offices," Doyle replied, still smiling.

"Why wouldn't she?" Derek snapped out. "She knew she would get help there."

"Really?" Doyle arched an amused brow. "Help. You don't mean anger and rejection? Isn't that what you were all feeling when you found out she was alive? Angry that she had deceived you? Because your friends certainly feel that way and are making it known to her." He shook his head in mock understanding. "I know exactly how you lads feel. After all, she faked her death with me too."

"She's family, we'd never turn our backs on her," Rossi replied tightly though he had an uncomfortable feeling that a reunion might be rocky with some of the others.

"Oh, they haven't turned their backs completely on her. After all, they need Lauren to get you three back. That's all your little friends are interested in."

"Emily!" Hotch snarled out, no longer able to keep quiet and making Rossi groan silently. "Stop calling her that name!"

Doyle's attention was now focused again on Hotch and his grin took a more feral turn. "_Em-i-ly_," he drawled out in a way that turned her name into an obscenity. Hotch shifted in his chair and everyone could see his jaw clenched tighter and his brow darken more. Doyle waved a hand dismissively. "For all your fine talk about family, _Emily_ seems to be on the out's with you lot. So sad since all she really was trying to protect you lot. Ah, I remember hearing her begging me to make sure I would leave you alone. You know, not once did she plead for her own life? How did she put it, "They're innocent." She bargained you, offered up herself in all those many delightful ways to protect you." He smiled when he saw Hotch tense even more. "And how do you people repay her? Pffbbbttt! Anger and accusations." Doyle shook his head in mock sorrow. "Ahh, poor Lau-, _Emily_. She would be better off with me, I think. I always protected her, loved her. When we're finished here, I think I will take my beautiful Lauren, oh, excuse me, _Emily_, find my son and live out our days in blissful harmony. Have another child. Ahh, that would be happiness to see her heavy with my child."

"You sick, bastard! You'll never touch her again! You're not taking her anywhere!" Hotch growled. "I won't let you!"

Doyle glared back at Aaron and bit out his own response. "You don't get a say in anything, Hotchner! None of you can even appreciate or know a woman like Emily. Do you know what her skin feels like? How she tastes? The soft sounds she makes when you satisfy her? The smell of her skin in the morning? How she feels in your arms after you've made love? What do you know of her, Agent Hotchner? Nothing."

A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched as he listened to Doyle talk about the ways he knew Emily, ways he never had a chance to experience. Jealousy and hatred burned through him. Why was _this_ man, this killer, sociopath, terrorist, allowed to experience and have something as wonderful as making love to Emily Prentiss.

Doyle grinned as he watched each of his arrows hit their marks. "Tell me, Agent Hotchner, what was your relationship with _Emily_? A look? Maybe a touch here? Or did you use her in other ways, not for her body, but for her other qualities?" He titled his head to the side as he contemplated a silent Hotch. "In your work, I'm sure you talk to many children. Emily is quite good with children. They gravitate to her. Did you make her talk to all those children who have seen and gone through such unimaginable horrors? Did you make her feel every bit of their pain and shame and allow her to carry that burden for the wee ones? Were you all glad to have her do it to spare yourselves? To make her hear the sins of those who inflicted the pain and shame on those tiny souls in such graphic detail that every time she closed her eyes, she saw it happening?" He allowed his eyes to roam over the faces of the men and while their expressions remained impassive, Doyle saw enough.

He leaned forward, closer to Hotch and spoke softly and gently though it was so quiet that his voice seemed loud. "So who truly loves Emily more? Me, who worshiped her body and cared for her, tried to protect her, or you and your "family" who asked her to take on the horrors and nightmares of the children because the rest of you were too cowardly to do the deed yourselves?"

* * *

"Hey," JJ asked Garcia who was trying to gather herself in the hallway. She glanced at the people passing them by. "Are you okay?"

Penelope took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. I was just…"

JJ nodded. "I understand. I mean, I knew about it, the faked death, but I still can't believe she didn't tell us sooner about Doyle. I feel…"

"Betrayed?" Garcia sniffed. When JJ nodded, she added, "I feel horrible feeling that way. I mean, I can understand why she did it, but if she only had told us, none of this would have happened. JJ, Derek, Hotch and Rossi would be safe." She started to sob again, not caring about the curious looks she drew from the other agencies' representatives.

Ignoring them as well, JJ drew her friend into her arms to comfort her.

* * *

"I don't even like this, Emily," Clyde hissed. "You know they're not going to go along with it!"

"That's why I don't intend say anything to them," she murmured. "Look, Clyde, I think I can get Doyle to release the others. The last time, when he realized the lengths I went to protect Declan, I saw regret in his face."

"Before or after he drove a table leg into your stomach?" Clyde asked waspishly.

"Both," she retorted. "What I mean is, I think I can at least get him to release the others if I agree to go with him."

"And you'd do that?" Clyde breathed out. "Sacrifice yourself for these three men?"

"In a heart beat."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I read it was a Seaver episode tonight so I decided not to watch the show and instead work on this part and put it up. So for those who did watch the episode, I'd appreciate it if you let me know if there were any Emily Prentiss mentions or was it all about Ashely "Clarice Starling" Seaver? If the latter, glad I missed it. There's a lot of bad language in this one, but I think it's appropriate for the situation. Please leave feedback, I don't know how folks are responding to it if you don't. **

"Says the man who drove a stake into Emily's stomach," Hotch said quietly with just a touch of mocking to his voice. "Yes, that's a real sign of love. Or perhaps you were compensating for…inadequacies."

Doyle pulled back and stretched his neck, attempting to keep his temper in check and loosen his muscles. "I regret that," he murmured quietly. "I do. Had I known all Emily did to keep my boy safe, I wouldn't have gone to such lengths."

"You mean killing whole families and terrorizing Emily for weeks?" Derek sneered. "What would you have done? Dinner and pizza?"

Doyle shook his head. "You will never understand the complexity of my relationship with Lauren." His eyes took on a distant look. "We were in love. You can't fake those feelings."

"_Emily_," Hotch gritted out, annoyed that Doyle still referred to her by her alias, "Was playing a part. Don't think for a moment she actually loved you!"

"Of course she loved me," Doyle said with a gentle smile. He leaned towards Hotch again. "Otherwise, she would just be a whore, sleeping me. Now, you don't want to think of your dear Emily as whore, do you Agent Hotchner?" He let his eyes move over to Derek and then Rossi. "Because that's what you called her when you first heard about her relationship with me. A whore. A tramp. Your darling, sweet, good Emily, just another slut who'll spread her le-"

"Shut up!" Hotch roared. Rossi groaned silently, knowing whatever fragile control Hotch had over himself was quickly deteriorating. "She is NOT a whore and don't you dare say that about her! Never use that term when talking about Emily Prentiss!"

Doyle grinned. "Then she must have done it out of love, right? Really though, if you think about it, you've prostituted her out yourself too, haven't you Agent Hotchner? How many times have you used that beauty to entice suspects? Hmmmm? Brought her along to sit in a room to get a man to talk?"

"That's not the same!" Derek interjected. "And you know it!"

Doyle waved his hands. "How isn't it the same? You used her body in some way to get what you wanted." His eyes went back to Hotch. "Tell me, who's been the better man for Emily, Agent Hotchner? The man who whores her out or the man who beds her."

"You sick son of a bi-," Hotch began to growl as he lunged forward.

Doyle laughed but stopped when there was a discreet cough behind him. One of his men whispered something into the Irishman's ear and handed him a piece of paper. Doyle's smile widened and he nodded. "It's time for the next step," he told the other man who inclined his head and left the room. Doyle turned back to his captives. "I'm feeling magnanimous right now so I'll share this little treasure with you. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. See your dear friend, Emily. It was taken after she arrived back in this country."

He turned the piece of paper around and they could see it was a close-up shot of Emily, taken while she was unawares. Her head was turning so she was in a three-quarters of a profile. They could see her hair was much longer and her face thinner, but there was no mistaking who it was.

Hotch could feel a mix of emotions course through his body. Elation, anger and overwhelming worry. She was too thin. She looked tired. She was going to try something stupid like sacrifice herself for them. And guilt, he felt so much guilt. Guilt for not recognizing how much she was in trouble. Guilt for not getting to her sooner. Guilt for not being able to protect her now, because no matter what happened, unless the FBI pulled out some miracle save, he, Morgan and Rossi were likely dead, and Emily will suffer for a long time, Doyle was going to keep Emily and keep her for a while. Regardless of his taunts and his incredibly successful attempts to push his buttons, Hotch could see one thing about Doyle that made his heart sink with dread, jealousy and anger:

Ian Doyle was still in love with Emily.

* * *

If anyone in the bullpen happened to glance up, which they frequently did, they could see Emily Prentiss working in Agent Hotchner's office. Her head was bent over files that she had pulled from one of his desk drawers. At some point in the evening after the three agents had been missing for nearly 36 hours, they saw her jerk suddenly and then read something intently. One person did see her and as he stared at the window that looked into her office, other people in the bullpen followed his gaze. Soon there was a buzz of excitement in the air and questioning murmurs. After several minutes she rose from the desk and walked out of the office. She remained on the elevated level, looking down at the bullpen where everyone had stopped work and were gazing up at her expectantly. She held up her iPhone.

"Doyle's just contacted me."

* * *

"Aaron? Aaron, you okay?" Rossi asked the Unit Chief when they were alone again.

Hotch didn't reply immediately, but he finally nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Listen, Hotch," Morgan said urgently. "He's just trying to mess with our heads. You've got to stay frosty."

"Morgan is right," Rossi added. "Now's not the time to let our emotions get in the way."

"The things he's said about Emily," Hotch murmured.

"All designed to get a reaction from us, keep us upset and unfocused in trying to find a way out of here," Rossi said dismissively.

"But she…," Hotch swallowed hard. "Slept with him. Maybe enjoyed doing that."

Rossi shot him a sharp look at then glanced over at Morgan. From the expression on the younger man's face, Dave knew that Derek also shared some of Hotch's feelings. A wave of anger washed over the older man.

"So you're agreeing with that jagoff when he called Emily a 'whore'?" Rossi snapped. When the other men didn't respond, but also couldn't look at him, his temper snapped. "I can't even believe for one second that you guys even thought to slap that disgusting label on Emily! She's our friend! We know her!"

"Do we?" Hotch shot back as his head swung around to look at Rossi. "She lied to us!"

"She didn't lie!" Rossi shouted back. "She just didn't tell us about her past, and you know what Aaron, you don't know everything about my past. The only reasons she never said anything to us was because, a) it was classified and b) none of us took the damn time to find out more. We were just content to let her be Emily, our happy friend who was always willing to help us out and listen to our problems but never bother to ask her about hers. Come on, you two should know that, you hung her out to dry in the Benton case afterall."

"Hey, we backed her up," Derek protested.

"After she pushed and had to prove everything to you!" Rossi snarled. "That was the ONE time Emily came to us for help, and what did you guys do? Slap her down and doubted her. Hell, I wouldn't come to you guys either after that."

"And what about you, Dave," Hotch sneered, a prickle of guilt and jealousy, his two constant companions lately, flickering through him. "You and Emily got chummy after that, but I didn't see you asking her to share her deepest, darkest secrets afterwards."

"Oh, I'm including myself in the asshole category for not pushing harder to find out what was going on with Doyle, don't think I'm not. But I'm not the whole new level of asshole-ness you two are taking things by listening to that bastard's shit about Emily. And in no way have I ever gone to the level of Supreme Asshole-ness in thinking Emily is a whore." He leaned as close to Hotch as possible, his eyes intense and angry. "Emily Prentiss is my friend. I know the woman she is and always has been and that's a wonderful, kind, compassionate, beautiful woman who proved time and time again that she's been nothing but loyal and loving to all of us. If the two of you don't believe that or forgotten about all she's done for our family, the sacrifices she's made, then you both can go to Hell for all I care. But before you take that route, I want you both to keep your mouths shut while I deal with Doyle because you know what? I'd like to see Emily again and go out and buy her a beer, but that's not going to happen if you keep rising to Doyle's bait. So for the love of God, Aaron, shut the Hell up!"

* * *

"He wants to meet me in a pub in Georgetown," Emily said as she showed them the message on her iPhone.

"How did he know what address to send to you a message?" Reid asked.

Emily shrugged and handed the phone to Garcia. "The man's got connections. See if you can trace it. The pub's name is O'Hara's. He wants to meet me there at 10 pm."

"It's Friday night. That place is going to be very busy at that time as will the streets of Georgetown," JJ added. "Isn't he taking a risk with so many people around?"

"Not really," Clyde responded. "The more people, the more places to blend in and lose any surveillance or people tailing him."

"It's a trap," Garcia said flatly.

"Of course it is," Emily replied. "Which means we'll just have to figure out all the contingencies and a way to respond to them. We've got twelve hours to plan this. Marlow, I want you to take your team out to scout the pub and the surrounding areas. Figure out where we can set up ahead of time and see if you can spot anyone lurking around now. Try not to stick out. Doyle might already have people in position. He'll likely try to get me to a more isolated spot, so Marlow, make sure you look at what's nearby. Do a six block radius sweep. Kincaid, I need you to prep a team. Remember, we're going to be in a busy area and we need to make sure we avoid civilian casualties. Garcia, see if you can trace that text message I got. If we can figure out where Doyle is before the meeting time, so much the better. JJ you'd better help her. Reid and Clyde, I need you to do a deep background on the owners of O'Hara's, see if you can find any connection with Doyle. If there is a connection, maybe we can leverage them ahead of time and find a location on him. Okay, let's move it, people."

They scattered into various directions, excited that there was now some concrete work for them to do. Emily watched them as the bullpen filled with a busy hum. She slowly turned around and went up the steps to Hotch's office and closed the door. She lowered herself down on his couch and stretched out. She put her arm over her eyes, trying to rest before the meeting tonight and her showdown with Ian Doyle.

She knew Garcia would not find anything with the message on her phone. Doyle was too clever to have anything like that be traceable back to him. It also wasn't even the important message he had sent her. Prior to that message was another text from Doyle that she had erased. It was the message with the true instructions for their meeting tonight. Instructions that only she had seen and had made certain no one else would know about.

* * *

**A/N 2: It's just my opinion, but I really do think that Rossi would have the least amount of issues with Emily keeping things secret. Plus he doesn't have the trust baggage and issues that some of the others might. Rossi's kept secrets before and I find him probably the most pragmatic of the crew, so I think he would likely be the first to be the most understanding.**

**A/N 3: I'm adding this note after the chapter has been up for about an hour because I read a comment that I think I need to respond to in case anyone else is feeling the same. It is not my intention to make anyone hate Hotch or any of our heroes. I love Hotch. After Emily, he's my favorite. However, what I _am_ trying to do is go for some realism here and how would everyone react to really Earth shattering news. Part of the reason I did switch show canon and made Hotch oblivious to Emily's faked death is because I thought it would make a much more interesting story to explore how he would deal with everything. Truly, out of all of them, I think Hotch has the biggest trust issues, especially given his reaction to Emily when she first joined the team back in Season 2. Maybe I'm trying to explore too many themes with not only dealing with the Doyle issue, Emily's return, but I think it's these emotional, psychological and relationship aspects that add more flavor to the story overall. So long explanation short, no, I'm not trying to make Hotch look like a jerk. Just trying to make him look real, but just remember, I love Hotch so you can probably deduce that he won't be, as Rossi might put it, a Supreme Asshole all the time. And BTW, I really did enjoy writing Rossi's little rant!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you for all the feedback! I do truly appreciate the reviews and I am interested in what people think, even if they have differing opinions from me, on how the characters are reacting to the various situations I'm putting them in. I like to hear how they think a character will react and if they think I did or did not capture the character. Poor Hotch, just remember, I do truly love the guy and I am a H/P shipper, but as far as romance hearts and flowers for those two...well, let's just say there's a long road ahead of them with a LOT of stuff to work through and I'll give a hint, it's not just all about Doyle. I'll say this much, there's some twists coming up that'll have an impact on these fragile relationships. But that is for later on in the story. I hope you enjoy the ride and keep letting me know what you think!**

"Obviously, I'll try to negotiate for the agents' release when I meet Doyle," Emily was saying to the assembled members of the various agencies awaiting her orders. "However, the more likely scenario is that Doyle will take me to them. He will search me so any tracking device, wire or equipment he will dispose of which is why we need eyes on me at all times or you won't be able to follow us." She turned to Reid, JJ and Clyde. "Which is why the three of you cannot be on the surveillance teams. Doyle knows you and if he spots any of you guys, its game over." She turned back to the other agents. "CIA will be closest to the bar. Doyle has me walking from the Foggy Bottom Metro stop to O'Hara's. NSA will be trailing me and ICE will be posted along my route. You have your assigned stops." Emily glanced at the clock. "It's two hours before the meeting time. Get to your positions. I'll be starting from the Metro Stop at a quarter after 9:00 pm."

The agents dispersed their assignments clear. Emily watched as they all headed off into different directions and then turned to face the four people who had not left the bullpen.

"You're walking right into a trap, Emily," Garcia snapped out. "You really think that's the smartest thing?"

"It's the only thing we can do, right now," Emily replied calmly. "Doyle's holding all the cards and at this time we have to play by his rules. Don't worry, we've got good people positioned everywhere along the way. They'll keep me in sight and hopefully Doyle will take me to where the others are located. Or he might even call and let you guys know where you can pick up Hotch and the others."

"Wouldn't he just kill him?" JJ asked, a touch of anger to her voice. "I mean, after all, hasn't that been the point? Torture you by killing us?"

"Not while I'm the only person who knows where Declan is," Emily replied. "He might let one or more, if not all of them go to buy my assistance."

"Or torture them to make you talk," Reid said through tight lips.

Emily nodded sadly. "That's a possibility, but if that happens, I'll need to be with the others, and that means we'll know where to send the cavalry." She glanced at the clock again and sighed. "I've been in these clothes for almost three days. I'm going to grab a shower. Clyde, you've got my change of clothing, right?"

The Briton nodded and held up a shopping bag. Emily took it from him with a nod of thanks. She had flown here without packing a bag and had sent Clyde out to buy something for her. The clean clothes would at least make her feel more rested and prepared. It was mid-September but the weather was unseasonably cold area. Fortunately she had been wearing a black wool coat when Clyde whisked her out of Geneva, but the slacks and sweater she had underneath the coat were getting more than a little grimy. She headed towards the women's locker room on another floor while Clyde began to go over a few more details with the CIA team leader.

With everyone occupied, Reid turned to look at his two friends. Silently, he held up a small tracking device for them to see and walked over where Emily had tossed her black coat on Derek's desk. With a casual flick of his hand, Reid neatly slipped the tracking device under the color of the coat, making sure it was securely fastened. He nodded silently at them. Garcia responded with her own nod and left the room to go back to her office and make sure the device was activated and working.

They would not let Emily slip through their fingers again.

* * *

Emily rode up the escalator at the Foggy Bottom Metro station at precisely 9:15 pm. Even at this time of night, there were many people still out and about. Located by the George Washington University campus, Foggy Bottom was the closest Metro stop to Georgetown and an active one. Despite the cold evening, it was a Friday night and students were out in large numbers, ready to wind down from a week of work and study. She knew it would be even more crowded in Georgetown.

The walk to O'Hara's would only be a half hour even if made at a leisurely pace and with the streets crowded. Emily purposely walked slowly making sure the surveillance team could spot her and keep her position in sight. She also wore a red beret to help them in locating her easily and quickly.

She was not wired nor had any communication device on her, not even her phone. She was left alone with only her own thoughts, not able to hear the constant stream of chatter as the other agents marked her location with each passing block.

Her palms felt clammy and she took deep breaths every now and then to calm her nerves. The plan was risky and so many things could go wrong. Unlike last time, there wasn't much of a contingency plan to act as a back-up. She would have to improvise if that happened and improvising would increase the odds of something going very badly. She only hoped that the men would be spared, even at a cost of her own life. That would be a bargain she would happily pay if it meant stopping Ian Doyle once and for all and not letting anyone else die.

By the time she reached Georgetown Park Mall, the streets had become even more crowded. An evening showing at a nearby movie theater had let out a large group of people and students from the various universities in the area seemed to have all decided to congregate in Georgetown that night. The surveillance team was having a hard time keeping track of Emily, but the red beret helped them out. At one point, towards the end of the mall, the other agents lost sight of her, but less than a minute later, they spotted the familiar red beret and began tracking her again.

O'Hara's was just a few blocks beyond the mall. The CIA team in position there saw her hesitate a moment and then enter the bar.

Miles, one of the CIA agents stationed in the bar spotted the tall woman in the red beret and spoke quietly into his communication mike that Prentiss was inside. He stiffened as the woman turned to talk to two young women who had walked in after her. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right.

He edged slightly towards her for a better look, eyes roving the crowd, trying to spot Doyle or one of his men. Suddenly, he saw the woman take off her beret and shake her long hair and he froze. As the woman turned towards him, his jaw dropped.

It wasn't Emily Prentiss.

* * *

"Dave?"

Rossi ignored Hotch, still fuming over their earlier conversation.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not me you need to apologize to," Rossi snapped out. "You owe Emily an apology. That includes you too, Morgan."

"It's just that," Hotch hesitated. "When Emily first joined the team, things were rocky. And I was suspicious. I wasn't particularly warm and welcoming."

"Not warm and welcoming? You? Who would have thought?" Rossi said sarcastically.

Hotch glared at him, but continued. "I was wrong to be suspicious back then. But when I found out about Doyle and that her records had been faked, it just made me wonder, if the woman I had come to know, the woman I trusted with my life, a woman who-," Hotch paused, some stronger emotion making him fall silent as he struggled to express himself, "made me care for her a great deal, wasn't really the woman I thought she was."

Rossi's expression softened, realizing that more than any of them, Hotch felt betrayal the keenest. And to feel that from a woman he had developed feelings for, feelings Rossi suspected went beyond friendship, it was an enormous blow, on top of the many blows this man had suffered in recent years.

Morgan, Rossi knew, would get over things fairly quickly. It was the nature of the man to blow up immediately and just as quickly allow things to blow over. It was the benefit of wearing his emotions on his sleeve. But Hotch? Everything was hidden, internalized and allowed to fester and grow until the only way he could deal with it was to lash out in some, usually in a very wrong and destructive, way. Add to that the expert button pushing done by Doyle, Hotch was a complete emotional wreck.

It still didn't excuse him or Morgan for the whore thoughts, but better that got cleared up and buried with him than with anyone else, especially Emily.

"Aaron," Rossi said gently. "We have to keep focused here. We can't let Doyle win any more ground. Things aren't looking too good now, so we have to try to work every advantage we can."

Hotch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you think she'll come here? That he'll bring her to us so we can see her?"

Rossi heard the longing in his voice and wondered if the younger man was aware of it. He saw Morgan raise his eyebrows in surprise and Rossi nearly rolled his eyes. If they got out of here alive, he was going to have to give Derek a refresher course in observational skills.

"I think that's the only way this will end is with Emily here," Rossi answered solemnly.

Hotch looked at him, his eyes dark and haunted. "I can promise not to let Doyle get to me now, but if she's here and he hurts her, I can't promise anything."

* * *

It was all relatively simple. Emily knew with the college crowd milling about on a Friday night in Georgetown that she would likely find a suitable woman to play decoy for her. She only needed to find someone around the same height, with a similar shade of her now non-descript chestnut brown hair wearing a black coat. Most women in Washington, DC, young and old, had a black overcoat. If she happened to be wearing a red beret, so much the better, but if not, she could simply hand over her own. She was going to ditch the hat anyway.

That was the purpose of the long walk, the red beret and choosing a surveillance team made up of people who only just met her the day before. They wouldn't recognize her. Instead, they would look for a woman around her height, wearing a black coat with a red beret. It would be the red beret they would focus on especially in the crowded streets where they could easily lose sight of her. By taking that long walk, she knew in the crowded streets that the surveillance team would automatically begin to rely more on the telltale red beret to keep track of her movements. They couldn't get close enough to constantly see her face and there were not distinguishing features of her black coat. It would be the beret they would focus on.

Emily found her on the sidewalk outside of Georgetown Park Mall. It was simple to convince the girl to impersonate her. A story about playing a trick on a friend at O'Hara's and $500 in convinced the young student to go along with the plan. Emily remembered how hard money was to come by for students so the large sum for such a simple thing was too enticing. To make the girl feel even more comfortable with the idea, she herself suggested that the girl's two companions follow closely behind to make sure no harm fell on their friend. It took less than a minute to convince the student and hand over her red beret, all the while making sure the crowds hid them from anyone else's eyes. Emily was, after all, the person who set up the surveillance points and knew exactly who would be tailing her.

Her telltale red beret gone and the decoy sent off, Emily simply slipped into the mall which she knew was having extended hours that evening and was still fairly busy. She took the escalators down to the parking garage and came out on the other side of the mall on another street. She walked briskly towards the Potomac traversing the path that would lead her to the boardwalk that was bordered on one side by the river and on the other, the infamous Watergate Complex.

Her steps slowed as she scrutinized the few people that also strolled on the Boardwalk. It was quiet here, the crowds sticking to the well-lighted streets of Georgetown. It was also colder as a wind blew off the water, chilling the air. Over the years, bronze, life-size statutes had been added along the boardwalk. Their presence threw Emily as she would tense, not certain if it was a person or a statute until she was much closer. There seemed more of them than she remembered. Doyle had said for her to be along this Boardwalk and she would be contacted, but so far, no one had approached her.

She was coming next to another statute, this one seated with its arm stretched out across the back of the bench it was on. Her steps slowed and her eyes narrowed, but the figure did not move. A splash in the water caused her head to whip around and when her back was turned, the figure leapt up from the bench and quickly knocked her unconscious. Another figure moved in from the shadows and the two figures carried Emily between them to a waiting car in the Watergate garage. Anyone who saw them would see two concerned friends helping their inebriated companion, if there was anyone to see. They hustled Emily into the backseat of a Lincoln town car and as soon as the last door was closed, it pulled silently away, out of the garage and onto the streets of Washington, DC.

* * *

"Well, we knew she would give them the slip somehow," JJ said as she listened to the exclamations and shouts of the other agents when they realized Emily had disappeared. She was seated in a car with Reid and Easter.

"The red beret was a dead giveaway," Reid nodded. "She knew they would only identify her by that." He picked up his phone and dialed Garcia. "Do you have the signal from the tracker?"

"It's going strong. They're pulling onto the highway now," Garica replied from her mobile station in a van. She nodded at the sandy-haired man next to her who gave her a thumbs up sign. "Major Torre says to tell you guys his boys are ready."

"Now we hope they take us to Hotch and the others," JJ sighed.

* * *

A phone rang in the Lincoln town car. There was a short conversation and the man on the phone turned to his companion who sat in the back seat with an unconscious Emily.

"Look under the collar of her coat. They've put a tracker on her."

The man quickly found the device Reid had fastened under Emily's collar. He lowered the window and tossed it out as the car continued to speed along the highway towards Baltimore.

"Oh no. NO!" they heard Garcia yell over the phone.

"What? What is it Garcia?" Reid asked frantically.

"I've lost the signal!"

* * *

Hotch, Rossi and Morgan looked up when they heard a shuffle of feet near the doorway. Two men were pushing a stumbling figure forward. A cloth bag over her head hiding her features, but the body was tall, lithe and decidedly feminine. Hotch felt his heart sink, recognizing the curves that he had memorized but never having touched. She was thinner than they had remembered, but they had no doubts as to who it was.

The woman was shoved down into a chair that had been placed in front of Hotch and was next to the small table that had been there since they were captured. Like them, her feet were tied to the chair's front legs with plastic zip ties, but because this was a straight back chair, her arms were pulled back behind her and they could hear the tell tale click of handcuffs as they looped the manacles around one rung, effectively attaching the woman to the chair.

"Doyle says you lot can have your little reunion," one of the men jeered. He ripped off the cloth bag from the woman's head.

Her hair was lighter and much longer than they remembered it. The bangs were gone and she wore little, if any make-up. But the large eyes framed with thick, long lashes, the patrician features and the flawless ivory skin was the same.

Emily.

* * *

**A/N 2: I'm not sure if anyone recognizes the name, but "Major Torre" (and I just gave him the rank because I don't think it was ever made clear on the show if had a rank or what unit he belonged to) is Dan Torre who was the SWAT team leader in "Minimal Loss" and played by Connor Trinneer. I have a soft spot for Connor. I remember him from his role on Star Trek Enterprise, plus there's a reason that will be later revealed as to why he's here now. Also, I used to live in Washington, DC, but it's been a while. Those bronze statutes do exist on that boardwalk behind the Watergate, or at least they did when I lived there. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you all very much for helping me break the 100 reviews barrier. Yay! :) I'm glad people are enjoying this story and I'm also so pleased that a few people are finding it for the first time. I hope you're enjoying the ride. A few things, I don't know what a "jagoff" is. Sorry, I'm not from Pittsburgh, but I remember hearing Rossi calling the UNSUB in "Penelope" one so I figured that was a very unflattering term that Rossi would use when describing Doyle. So, if someone wants to explain to me what "jagoff" means, I'd appreciate it. I'm also pleased that some folks enjoyed the Rossi Rant and how I'm writing him. To be honest, I didn't initially plan him to play such a major part, but he sort of snuck in and took over when I was writing. That happens sometimes and I'm really enjoying writing his bits. Second, I noticed in some of the comments that a few of you have figured out bits and pieces of the plot. I know there was one comment where they felt that a character wouldn't have said something, but in that case, there is a reason that statement was made. And last, for those who think Hotch was getting a bit of a bum steer so far, we're turning a corner here, but always know there's potential for future set backs because honestly, angst is sometimes good! Again, thank you for the reviews and any future ones you may want to provide!**

The two men who had brought Emily in left the room. Silence descended as the former teammates simply stared back at each other. Each person waited for someone else to speak first, but what does one say in this type of situation? 'Hi, how's it going' seemed wildly inappropriate.

It was Rossi who broke the silence first in his inimitable way.

"I like you better with the darker hair."

Emily's lips quirked slightly and she looked over at the oldest member of her former team. "I missed you too, Dave."

"Have you seen Doyle?" Morgan asked.

She turned to look at him and noted that while he had a bruise on his cheek, he looked to be in good shape as had Rossi. Emily shook her head. "No. I haven't seen him yet." She turned to look at Hotch who appeared to be in the worst condition. His face was battered and she saw some dried blood on his shirt near his abdomen. "Hotch," she greeted him softly.

Aaron stared at her, that gaze that seemed to have grown more intense in the two years she had last seen him. He was silent and Emily felt her heart sink. She knew how much value he placed on trust and out of her former teammates, recognized that he would be the one who would have the most trouble accepting what had happened and what she had done. She braced herself for what would likely be recriminations.

"I just want to ask you one thing," Hotch said quietly, his level voice betraying no emotion.

Emily nodded. "Anything."

"Did they hurt you?"

She blinked at him in surprise, not expecting that to be his first question. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes and a lump in her throat because when he did ask that question, she could hear the worry in his voice. She shook her head. "Just a small bump on my head, but I'm okay."

Hotch nodded. "Good."

Emily eyed him uncertainly. By his injuries, obviously Doyle had focused on Hotch the most, but why she wasn't certain. Ian was a model of efficiency so unless one of her friends did something to provoke him, he wouldn't have bothered hurting any of them until she was around. What would be the point? They were only here to assure her cooperation so why bother with torture unless she was here to witness it. And if anyone was going to run his mouth and irritate Doyle, she would have thought the likeliest culprit would be Morgan. It was possible that as their team leader, Doyle made an example of Hotch or the dark haired agent deliberately put himself in harm's way. The other alternative was something Emily hoped was not true. If Doyle was acting out of character, that means he was in an unpredictable state and Emily would have to be even more cautious in how she handled him.

However, for now it was imperative she gather as much information as possible. She noted their bindings and then their surroundings. The cloth bag was already on her head when she had regained consciousness in the car so she did not see what type of building it was when they parked. She could tell when they had marched her into a building, the absence of any wind a tell tale sign. They had walked for a while, up stairs, with her stumbling a bit. So it had to be a fairly large building. Now as she got a good look around, she realized it was likely a warehouse.

The dirt and grime indicated it had not been in use for a while. Bare light bulbs dangling from the high ceiling casting a harsh glow on everything in the space in which they were held. One side was bordered by a wall with a doorway that she had come through earlier. Two more walls were on opposite ends but to Emily's left she could see out into open space. After having to climb stairs, Emily knew they were on some upper level.. She saw that a rusty, shaky metal railing was meant to provide some protection from falling over the edge, though from what little she could see in this light, it looked like it didn't offer much in safety.

The room was empty save for the chairs they sat in and the small table that was also to her left. The men were secured to their chairs with plastic zip ties while those were only on her feet. Her hands were handcuffed behind her, with the cuffs looped over a chair rung, effectively tying her to the chair and limiting her mobility.

"So, you want to tell us what happened two years ago?" Hotch asked her, bringing Emily's attention back to him. "Why did you decide to fake your own death?"

Emily pursed her lips together. "It wasn't entirely my decision," she replied. "It was something they had decided, but I saw the wisdom of it. If Doyle thought I was dead, it would protect all of you and it would free me up to hunt him down."

"Why did JJ get pulled into it and not one of us?" Morgan queried.

"JJ's security clearance is higher than any of yours, yes, even you, Hotch," Emily said. "It had to be someone on the team who could keep the rest of you in check, keep tabs on you and make you believe I was really dead."

"Because we wouldn't have accepted it if some random doctor said you were gone and wouldn't let us see your body," Rossi supplied. Emily nodded.

"And all this time," Hotch continued quietly. "You've been hunting Doyle? Trying to dismantle his operations?"

"It took me a while to recover, but for the past year or so, yes." She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "You don't understand what you're dealing with. Doyle is not like the UNSUBs you're used to. He's smart, he has resources and he has a loyal following behind him. It's a well-funded and completely ruthless army at his disposal. His people are highly disciplined, deadly and loyal. You won't get them to turn on Doyle and he will not hesitate to use them on you and your families."

"I think we've found that out, Emily," Rossi interjected wryly.

"What's Doyle's mood?" she asked.

"To some extent, he seems focused, but-," Derek hesitated.

"But?"

"You would assume that his main concern would be about his son, Declan. But he's barely mentioned him," Hotch supplied. His gaze held hers and Emily was reminded again of how magnetic Aaron Hotchner could sometimes be. "He seemed more interested in talking about you."

"Me?" It came out in a little breathless squeak. She cleared her throat, breaking the gaze between herself and Hotch. "What's he been saying? What do you think his state of mind is where I'm concerned?"

"It's been…unusual," Hotch replied slowly. "At times he seems to slip back and forth, remembering you as Lauren and then talking about you as Emily. At first, I thought he was doing it to simply…anger us, but it seems that the lines are blurring for him."

Rossi threw Hotch a surprised and relieved look. At least his former protégé hadn't completely shut down and had been observing their adversary despite the emotional turmoil he has been going through.

"Hotch is right," Morgan piped in. "The more he talked, the more he seemed to lose some of his hostility towards you."

Emily nodded. This will work to their advantage and it was what she hoped would be the case. "Doyle's main issue with me was Declan. Now that he knows I actually protected his son from the North Koreans, Interpol and anyone else who may have wanted to use the child as leverage against him, he might actually be viewing me a little less harshly. This could work to our advantage. I might be able to get him to release you three if I agree-"

"No," Hotch stated flatly before she could even finish. "We all leave together. I'm not letting you go anywhere with that man."

"Hotch," Emily sighed softly in exasperation. "You know as well as I do that this could end in a very messy and bad way. If we can get the three of you out of here safely, that's a win."

"At what price?" Hotch snapped. "Your life? No, that's not a deal I'm willing to make. You decided for us two years ago, Emily, you don't get to make that decision now."

"And you're not really in a position to have much say in the matter, Hotch," she bit back. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Look, I need you guys to trust me on how to handle this."

"You want to talk about trust with us?" Derek asked in disbelief. "You're asking us to trust you? Where was that trust two years ago, Emily? Why didn't you trust us?"

"I couldn't say anything! I swore an oath and it was classified."

"But even afterwards, after it came out that it was Doyle we were looking for, you decided to go on a suicide mission to stop him, leaving us with no clue, no idea or chance to help you!" Derek cried out.

There was a flicker in Emily's eye that was there and then gone, but Hotch and Rossi had seen it. They looked at her intently and realized they had missed something from the events two years back.

"I did what I thought was best to protect the people I loved the most. It was never a question of trust. If anything, perhaps I trusted in your abilities too much," Emily replied through stiff lips. Hotch and Rossi were confused by that last statement, not certain what to make of it. She shook her head again, as if to clear it. "None of that matters right now, the important thing is for you to let me handle this and handle Doyle. And for God's sakes, whatever happens, don't react to him."

"Emily, tell me you aren't doing this on your own," Dave asked. "That this time you did ask the Bureau for help."

"Oh, she asked, but I doubt your little friends were willing to really give it," Doyle called out from the doorway.

* * *

"What the Hell do you mean you've lost the signal?" Clyde Easter snarled at Garcia. Along with Reid and JJ, they had met up with the surveillance van Garcia was in where she was supposed to be tracking Prentiss.

"It's gone. It just suddenly went kaput!" she sputtered. "I can't get a lock on it."

"What was their last location?" JJ asked.

"It looks like they were heading towards Baltimore, but I can't be certain of it." She paused a moment. "It might be a signal issue. We had to stay about a half mile back but that's about the limit in the tracker's range. If I can some how spread a wider net to cover a larger area, I can narrow down a search field."

"What would you need?" Easter asked.

"Access to some really high security satellites," Penelope sighed dejectedly.

"Let me see what I can do," JJ said as she pulled out her cell phone.

They stared at her and she looked back at them. "Capturing or killing Doyle is a top priority for several nations including our own. We might be able to get the help we need. Will this give you Emily's location?"

Garcia shook her head. "It'll just narrow down things to maybe about a 25 square mile field."

"It's better than nothing," JJ muttered as she hurried out of the van to make her calls.

"Garcia, did you get anything with the money trail?" Reid asked.

"Just odds and ends. Some purchases, but nothing that indicated where he might be. Why?"

"If we have a 25 square mile area to search and we had a list of purchases and knowing what we know about Doyle, it might help me build some sort of geographic profile."

"Do you think it would work? Just a list of random purchases?" Easter asked skeptically.

"One thing we know about Doyle, he's very proud of his Irish heritage. If we know what he's purchased in the same area that Garcia narrows it down to, coupled with that knowledge and what he would potentially need to hold four people captive, we might be able to come up with a manageable list. Our only other choice would be to drive around that 25 square mile area and hope we stumble across them before it was too late. Hoping to just get lucky is not something I'm willing to rely on and time is definitely not on our side."


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: I apologize for the length of time between parts. The story is getting into a crucial phase here and parts are becoming trickier to write and life has gotten incredibly busy. I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this part, so you are forewarned. Just another note, I'll try to have up another part or two this week, but I need to go out of town on business for almost a week, so there's going to be a bit of lag time. I'm also still considering whether what I have planned out needs to be broken up into two or more stories or if it should remain one big story. If I do multiple stories, then there is a light at the end of the tunnel approaching for "Reckoning". I hope you enjoy and as always, comments are most welcomed. And by the way, thank you for everyone who provided a "jagoff" definition! I appreciate you guys for getting back to me on that one and in your honor, Dave uses it again here!**_

Emily resisted the temptation to whip her head around to see exactly where Doyle was located. She forced herself to remain still, but since he was directly in front of her, Hotch could see the brief flash of fear in her eyes when she heard Doyle's voice. Aaron's face hardened and despite the fact that he couldn't physically do anything to protect her, he silently vowed to do whatever he could to make sure Doyle didn't harm her, no matter the cost to himself.

Prentiss' eyes narrowed as she saw Hotch's face tense and that look, that protective look she had seen before, enter his eyes. She stared directly at him and tried to communicate with her own eyes, _Don't say anything. Don't move a muscle. Let me handle him._

Hotch gazed back at her and without moving a muscle in his face or even making a sound, Emily knew he was mentally snorting at her.

_Not while I'm around, Prentiss._ Hotch shot back at her.

_Idiot!_ Her slightly furrowed silently snapped at him.

Their silent communication was broken when she felt gentle fingers touch her hair and slide down a few long strands, drawing them out, letting the silk slip through his fingers before her hair fell gently back down. She resisted the urge to shudder and remained still.

"I think I like this color," Ian said gently as he continued to stroke her hair. As his fingers continued to run through the strands his voice grew softer, more reminiscent. "It looks like dark caramel. I remember my mother making them when I was young. Sweet and buttery. I don't remember your hair ever being this long before, Lauren. I think I like it shorter and curled."

Emily promised herself that if she got out of this alive, she was dying her hair back to its natural darker color and would forever have the longer hair.

Doyle moved around until he was between Hotch and Prentiss. He stood with his back to the BAU leader, staring down at Emily with a fond look in his eye and a slight smile on his face.

"You look good, Emily. Much better than you did two years ago." Ian's voice was still soft, but she noted that he addressed her as "Emily" this time. The men's assessment was right. Doyle seemed to be drifting back and forth between the two identities she was known by, Lauren and Emily. If she could get him fixated on "Lauren", they might have a chance, but if he kept drifting back and forth between the two, it made dealing with him even more precarious.

"Considering the last time you saw me you had just driven a wooden stake into my abdomen, yeah, I can agree, I'm looking and feeling much better now," Emily cheekily replied, testing how he would react to her flippant remark.

Though she focused her attention on Doyle, just on the edges of her vision she could see and Rossi scowling slightly at her, concerned about the volatile situation she seemed to be dealing with a little too cavalierly.

Regret clouded Doyle's face. And he crouched down closer to Emily, a position that the behavioralists recognized as a non-threatening stance. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know what you had done for Declan. How you tried to protect him from everything. Lauren, had I known, I wouldn't have done any of those things to you." He swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry." He reached out to gently touch her cheek, causing the other men to tense and forcing Emily to will herself not to. "I'm sorry for everything." His fingers trailed down her cheek to her jaw line and then her throat. They skimmed across the collar of the blue, pin-striped dress shirt she wore and landed on the top button there. Her eyes were on Doyle, but still on the very edge of her vision, Emily could see Hotch tense even more.

"I'm especially sorry about what I did here," Doyle continued in a voice filled with regret. He unbuttoned the first button on her shirt and this time Emily did react, trying to jerk away from Doyle, not wanting him to reveal the ugly mark he made two years ago to the other men.

Hotch was already tense, ready to intervene in some way, but still managing to keep himself in check, allowing Emily to take the lead and trusting in her judgment. But when he saw her jerk nervously, it snapped his tenuous control.

"Leave her alone, Doyle!" he roared.

Even Rossi and Derek could no longer hold themselves in check and for the first time, actively and uselessly jerked against their restraints.

"Ian, please," Emily tried to keep her voice to a soft coo. "That's private. It's between you and me."

Doyle paused and then he raised his eyes from Emily's shirt to look into hers. She felt her heart sink a little as a cold look replaced the warm one that had been there. _Shit_, she thought, realizing he was once again back in his world where she was Emily, the enemy, and not Lauren, his soul mate. What was the trigger that made him go there? What caused this change?

"Oh, luv, but it's not private," Ian cooed out in mock sweetness. "The reason I did it was to make sure everyone knew who you belonged to. Would always belong to. I think it's something your old friends, especially Agent Hotchner should see." He unbuttoned a few more buttons on her shirt. He shifted around until he was standing behind her chair, bending over so he could see the reactions of the other men as he pulled one side of the shirt away from her body. They could clearly see a crude clover burned into the top of her left breast. It was pinkish and not as dark and obvious as one would think a burn tattoo would be, but it showed up quite clearly on Emily's milky white skin.

Doyle seemed to note the faded quality of his handiwork. "Hmmm, I thought it would have showed up more."

"You know, the doctors were really great and tried to take care of it quickly to minimize the scarring. Wasn't too fond of clovers anyway. Would have preferred a heart or a rose or something." Now that he was looking upon her as Emily, she switched her tactics and tried to cover her humiliation over Hotch and the others seeing her like this. She dared not look directly at her friends, knowing their looks of pity would distract her too much.

Hotch, Rossi and Morgan felt varying degrees of sick rage looking at the brand Doyle had placed on Emily. While they knew it was there, it was the first time any of them had seen it and it proved to be far worse than they had imagined. Hotch in particular felt his stomach roil in a mixture of anger and sympathetic despair that upon everything else she had endured, Emily also had the constant reminder of this monster.

Doyle let out a short puff of air that could have been a laugh. His hands came to Emily's shoulders and he gently massaged them. "Tough girl isn't she? Still making jokes in these types of situations. I can't tell if it's bravery, stupidity or nerves. Or maybe all three?" His fingers began to gently stroke her neck again, but unlike before, it seemed to be a mockery of any affectionate touch.

Hotch didn't know whether to be more upset or not in the change in the man. He knew the tightrope Emily was walking, uncertain which direction Doyle was going to veer next and having to adjust how she dealt with him depending on what reality he happened to be inhabiting at that moment. But at least now he wasn't gazing upon her like a devoted lover which ironically would have probably been the more useful situation to them.

"Ian, it's clear what you want from me," Emily continued. "You want to know where Declan is."

"Oh, you think that's all I want, Emily?" he asked as he allowed his fingers to trail down her neck, to her collar bones.

She bit her lip and stole a glance at Hotch, noting the increase of tension in his body and the anger in his eyes. _No!_ she barked out silently at him with her eyes. He scowled at her. _He's just yanking your chain! He's not serious!_ She tried to communicate all this in a look, and either Hotch didn't get her message, didn't agree with her assessment or was simply ignoring it. Emily thought it was probably the last choice. Internally, she frowned in puzzlement. Doyle was yanking their chain, or more specifically, Hotch's chain. He hadn't paid much attention to Rossi or Morgan. It didn't fit. Doyle only took these three to have leverage over her. Emily had fully anticipated their torture to begin given her front row seat, but right now, Doyle seemed more intent on messing with Hotch. Something had happened during their captivity to make the Irishman hone in on the BAU leader.

Doyle pressed his lips lightly against Emily's temple, cooing all the time, "Beautiful, beautiful, Emily," he murmured. He looked over at Hotch as his fingers drifted down her front again to caress the clover on her breast. "The type of woman who, once you have her, she gets into your blood and you can never get her out. You never want to. But this," he lightly tapped the clover. "It says she's mine. Aren't you, darling?"

Emily's mind raced as she watched the fury build up on Hotch's eyes. Aside from the flush of anger in his face, the rest of his features remained immobile, but Doyle could see he had been hitting some marks. The only question was why? What game was he playing here and why was he now so fixated on Hotch?

She did know one thing, the Doyle who could see her as Emily was far more lucid and together. It wouldn't be easy to manipulate and negotiate with him as it would be if he was seeing her as Lauren. This Doyle obviously had some game plan that he was following, but what it was, she wasn't certain. She needed to tread very carefully here.

"Wow, marking your territory like a dog, Ian," she commented wryly. "That doesn't sound like you." She felt his gentle fingers suddenly tense and the hand that rested on her shoulder tightened a fraction. "Worried that your 'woman' would stray? You can lead men to their deaths, but can't keep a woman beside you without branding her?" Emily clicked her tongue in mock sympathy.

His hands stilled on her and then they were pulled away. A few heartbeats went by with Doyle simply standing behind her where she couldn't see his face. She kept her eyes on Hotch, trying to divine some clue as to what was going on behind her. She saw a flash from his eyes. _I'm not sure_.

It took a minute, but Doyle seemed to have gathered himself and he approached her. The Irishman moved around to stand before her again, looking down at her, looming over her. His eyes had gone cold again and a soft menace had come into his voice. "Do you know what your friends here think of you, Emily? They think you're a whore. Some tramp who spread her legs for me. Do you think they actually, truly care about you? Do any of these men or those back at the FBI, the two girls and the boy, truly give a damn? No, they only see a lying whore who betrayed them when they look at you."

She understood his game now, divide and conqueror. Emily glanced at Hotch and for one second, she wobbled when she saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. Is that what they thought of her? That she was a whore and not worth the effort? She pushed those doubts and thoughts aside. Now was not the time to lose it. She needed to focus and work on getting as many of them out of this situation alive.

She chose the response she knew Doyle was expecting. "You're lying," she spat out, her chin raised defiantly. God, she really hoped he was lying.

"Am I?" he drawled. He moved to her side and stooped down to put his head close to hers. "Look at them. Look at the guilt in their eyes. Tell me gentlemen, can you honestly say you didn't think of her as a whore when you heard all she had done to get close to me?"

Emily reluctantly looked at her former teammates and saw the guilt clearly on display in Hotch and Morgan's eyes and felt her heart die a little. She tentatively looked at Rossi and felt a bit of her spirits restored. Dave didn't look guilty. Dave looked downright pissed.

Rossi was angry. He finally figured out what all that whore crap Doyle had been spewing earlier was about. He was trying to drive a wedge between them and Emily. Make her vulnerable to his manipulations and make sure they couldn't work together as a team. By planting those seeds earlier in Hotch and Morgan's minds, seeds they probably hadn't consciously acknowledge but were definitely there, it made it difficult if not impossible for them to hide any guilt when confronted by Emily's keen gaze.

_The jagoff was sneaky._

Dave made eye contact with Emily and with just the smallest of nods, let her know he had caught onto Doyle's game. The slight shift in her eyes affirmed to him that she was aware of what was going on, though, the lingering hurt in them also showed him that this was a well-delivered blow to her.

He couldn't see Morgan from where he sat, but he could see Hotch's profile. The younger man's mask was firmly in place, but Rossi hoped to God Hotch had also been able to connect the dots too. However, with the emotional strain he had been under for two years coming to a boil now, the other man's moods were as unpredictable to Rossi as Doyle's. He just hoped Hotch had been able to retain some of his objectivity and analytical skills and realize what the bastard was up to.

Taking strength from Dave's small, encouraging nod, Emily knew she would have to call upon all her skills and talents if there was a hope in Hell any of them would get out of this alive.

"They know what sacrifice I made for them," Emily said stiffly. "They understand why I did what I did. They trust me."

"Do they?" Ian oozed out in sympathetic tones. "Really, and your little friends, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau and Spencer Reid, no doubts about you at all? No wondering looks? Suspicious glances?" He saw Emily hesitate and he smiled. "Ahh, yes, I suspected they would. Wondering why you came back to only put them," he gestured towards the BAU men, "in so much danger."

Emily's voice was much smaller, though she felt a glimmer of grim satisfaction hearing Doyle essentially confirm one of her suspicions. "They-, they haven't had time to process everything. It's overwhelming to them."

"Your miraculous resurrection is new to them, but they've had two years to think about what we were to each other, Emily. And it doesn't seem as if they're opinion has improved." He bent down now to look into her eyes, his back to Hotch and the others. "They weren't ever your family, Emily. Remember how they shut you out? How they would go about their happy lives and leave you to yourself? And that was before they found out about you. About us. And now they know you've lied to them again." He moved over to whisper in Emily's ear. "Really, do you think they could ever trust you again? Did they ever truly?"

Guilt filled him because Aaron Hotchner was an honest enough man to admit that there was some truth in what Doyle was saying. It still didn't stop the twist in his heart that he felt when Emily turned bruised eyes towards him. Did she really think they would turn their backs on her? Not welcome her into their family, had never truly welcomed her? He thought back to those first few months when she joined the team and winced internally. His less than welcoming attitude and subsequent minute dissection of every action and decision she made would have made anyone feel they were under a microscope. Did those memories linger for her?

"What do you want me to say, Ian?" Emily said softly and Hotch felt a prickle of unease when she used Doyle's first name. "What do you want?"

"Just for you to realize, Emily, that this life you built, or thought you had built, was an illusion," Doyle continued to ooze out in false sympathy. "You may have loved them like family, but really, were those feeling returned?"

A tear rolled down Emily's face and a look of devastation etched itself on her features. Even Rossi began to wonder if it was all an act. He stole a look over at Hotch and saw that the Unit leader's face reflected the man's own pain and guilt. Dave leaned forward slightly, trying to see around Hotch at Morgan and saw shock and confusion in the young man's eyes. At that moment Derek turned his head and saw Rossi looking at him. With a sidelong glance to make sure Doyle wasn't watching them, Derek gave Rossi a slight nod. Good, Morgan had caught on and was willing to play along with what was hopefully Emily's act.

_If it was all an act._ Rossi shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't a fool, he could see right now that their best hope of survival was how Emily handled Doyle and if she lost focus, if she allowed her feelings to overwhelm or confuse her, things could end up very badly for all of them.

"No," Emily murmured in a broken voice. "I don't think they ever really accepted me." Her eyes were lowered, but she looked up at Ian through the cover of her thick eyelashes, trying to gauge where he was going with all this and just what her next move should be.

"It's because they don't understand people like us," Doyle continued in a somewhat pleased tone. "Warriors. They will never understand our lives. How we live, how we love. They will never understand the real you, Emily."

"Then why bring them here?" she asked, risking a glance at Hotch who remained immobile. "What is the purpose of all this, Ian?"

"I brought them here because I needed you to see how they weren't worthy of your protection, Emily," Doyle continued in a hard voice. "And to do you an enormous favor."

"Favor? What favor are you talking about, Ian?" She felt a trickle of dread go down her spine.

"To remove the shackles of your former life. To set you complete free," Doyle replied gently. Then his eyes took on a hard and cold glitter. Emily realized with horror that yes, her teammates were taken to torture her, but not for information. Doyle intended to break her completely and to do that he will kill her friends outright in front of her. "And to do that, I think we need to eliminate all traces of it. I think we should start with Agent Hotchner."

_**A/N 2: Now that you've read it, you might see why I'm not 100% happy with it. It was difficult writing the shifting Ian who looked at Prentiss as Emily and then Lauren. This is where having something filmed is really useful since a good actor can convey some of that more seamlessly and probably in a lot of cases, better than the written word. Same with Prentiss' silent communications with Hotch. And part of the reason I wanted all that silent communication going on between Emily and the guys was to show that while she's been gone two years, they haven't missed a beat, really, in their teamwork. Oh, and there's a little clue in there regarding another branch in this story and relates back to a question someone brought up in a review a few chapters back. Something about not quite believing someone would say something. It'll all tie in, trust me.**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: WARNING! Brutal part, but I like to call it angsty goodness! Reviews/feedback is always appreciated.**_

"Ian," Emily said shakily. "This won't work. This won't bring you any closer to finding Declan. Please, Ian, we can work out a deal here if you just leave them alone."

"Haven't you understood anything yet, Emily?" Doyle responded as he picked up the knife he had started to use earlier on Hotch. He looked inquisitively at her. "They're dead weight. Judgmental. Always thinking they're superior to you. You don't need them." He gave her a feral grin. "They'll just hold you back, luv."

He moved towards Hotch and touched the tip of the knife to the agent's throat. Aaron simply stared forward into Emily's panicked eyes and tried to tell her, _It's okay. It's not your fault._

"Stop it, Ian!" Emily screamed, panic crawling it's way through her body with sharp claws. "You don't want to do that! He's done nothing to you! Please, I'm begging you!"

"And why is he so important, Emily?" Doyle asked in a quiet voice. "Why are you willing to beg for this man's life?"

"Because he's innocent in all this. This is between us, Ian. Hotch-," her voice caught a little on his name, "Hotch and the others, they don't mean anything!" Her mind was working a mile a minute, uncertain now about what course of action to take. Any move seemed to be the wrong one. "Please, Ian! He's a father like you! He just wants to get home to his little boy!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emily realized she had made a mistake. Doyle's eyes darkened and the hand holding the knife shook.

"And what makes this bastard more deserving of his child than I am of mine!" Ian roared. He shoved his face close to Emily's. "He does not deserve his son! I do! I deserve to see my children live and grow and become warriors like me!"

Doyle's hand clutched the knife in an even tighter grip and he spun on his heel to turn towards Hotch who had remained impassive throughout the brief exchange. He showed no fear and this enraged the Irishman even more. For the first time, their team leader and one of the Agency's finest finally spoke.

"You will not win."

Doyle snarled and brought up his knife to plunge it into Hotchner when Emily screamed out the only thing she knew would likely divert Ian's attention away from her friends.

"You don't deserve children! You didn't deserve Declan and I'm proud that I kept him away from you! You're a monster! A filthy, horrible creature that shouldn't be anywhere near children and by God, I make sure you never would be!"

That last part caught Ian's attention and he lowered his arm to turn slowly towards her. His voice took a chilling note as he asked in a low tone, "What do you mean by that?"

"I think you know," Emily snarled out, her mind working rapidly as it assessed the possible scenarios that would play out, none of them good for her. But she had to see it through. It was the only way of keeping Hotch and the others alive. "I made sure no child would ever have to suffer having you for a father. I got Declan away from you, to safety, but I also made sure that your unborn child never had to live with the knowledge that its father was a monster. That's right Ian, I was pregnant and I got rid of the baby just so it wouldn't have to know that a bastard like you gave it half of its DNA-"

She was expecting the punch, but it still hurt like Hell when it landed on her face. For a moment, her chair teetered before it dropped back down with a thud. The men's chairs were bolted down. Emily's was not. Vaguely, she heard a howl of anger and didn't realize it had come from Hotch.

When the first blow landed on her, Hotch threw himself forward with an angry, anguished cry. The plastic ties around his wrists and ankles bit cruelly into his flesh, drawing blood, but he didn't care as he repeatedly tried to tug himself free to protect Emily. Even Rossi and Morgan, forgetting their training and what they knew was the right thing to do, began to struggle and cry out against Doyle, trying to get the man's attention as he landed two more blows on Emily.

Vaguely she heard Hotch and the other men trying draw Doyle back to them in an attempt to stop the blows. The Irishman paused for a moment, breathing heavily and she took the opportunity to make sure her friends understood why she was doing this and to not interfere.

"I can take it!"

Those four little words that held such meaning for these three men stopped them in their tracks. Like then, she was telling them to not act. And like then, she was taking a beating to save her teammates. Derek's head dropped down, unable to watch. Dave also turned his head away and happened to turn it in Hotch's direction. Rossi couldn't bear to watch either, though, much like in Colorado, was forced to hear the brutal attack. However, he could see Hotch never once averted his eyes.

In Colorado when Cyrus Benjamin used Emily for his person punching bag, all he could do was sit there and listen to the blows on her body, the sound of her crashing into objects as she was thrown about, her pained moans. Now, he could see what was being done to her and like then, was helpless. Each blow that landed on her body, Hotch felt. When finally the chair fell over and her shoulder crashed into the hard ground, he felt the white hot pain of it. And when Doyle began to kick her, he felt each one in his own gut. If he lived through this ordeal, Hotch knew that this would be the nightmare that came to him over and over again.

The anger suddenly seemed to leave Doyle's body and he fell to his knees beside a semi-conscious, bleeding, moaning Emily.

"Lauren," he choked as he reached a hand out to touch her hair. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this."

Emily only moaned in response and Doyle's head and shoulders slumped in dejection.

"Just get the Hell away from her," Hotch said in a low, deadly voice.

They could see Ian's head come up stiffly. He didn't turn around, but they could tell by the slight slump of his shoulders, the man felt shame for what had had just done. Doyle got awkwardly to his feet and left the room. Emily had fallen completely unconscious, still lying on the floor, tied to her chair.

Hotch shifted his left arm and realized the arm on the chair was loose. All his struggles have not been for naught. If he could get it loose, he could free himself and the others. The knife Doyle had been using was lying a few feet from him, between himself and Emily. If he could only reach it. He wriggled the arm of the chair back and forth as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He paused when his glance fell on Emily.

Clyde Easter had asked him two years ago if he could put a bullet between Doyle's eyes. Hotch had answered no back then.

He felt differently today.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This might be my last part posted before I go on my trip and what would likely be a week or more delay to the next part. I might eek out something tomorrow night, but I'm not sure. Hope you enjoy and reviews are always welcomed. I made it over 150 reviews! Yay! Glad some of you are enjoying it!**

Clyde Easter could not pace in the small surveillance van they were crowded into, so he did something even more annoying. He drummed his fingers on a console. Penelope Garcia and Spencer Reid sent him irritated sidelong glances as they worked feverishly to try to locate Prentiss and the rest of their BAU family.

"Still nothing?" Easter queried for the tenth time in the past five minutes.

Reid controlled a sigh of exasperation but Garcia just growled. "Look, your accent might be sexy and you are cute in that rumpled kinda way, but if you don't shut up right now, I'm going to shove this laptop up something that wasn't made to take an object this large."

Reid shot her a surprised glance, but Clyde merely looked amused. "But then my dear, you'd likely have to press some interesting spots on my body to continue working that laptop."

"I've got a spare," Garcia deadpanned, though her mouth twitched slightly.

Clyde held up his hands in surrender and then sighed. "She's just been off our radar too long. We don't know how long she or the others will be able to last. We've got to find her quickly. And dammit, this time she didn't have an opportunity to leave us breadcrumbs."

Reid and Garcia exchanged looks. "Breadcrumbs?" the young man asked.

Easter gave them a surprised look. "Breadcrumbs. Hansel and Gretel reference. Little clues. A trail to follow." His brow furrowed at their confused looks. "The trail Emily left for you last time."

The two BAU members continued to stare at him with blank looks.

Easter sighed. "Good Lord, I thought you guys were supposed to be smart." Before Garcia could retort he continued. "Didn't any of you figure out Emily had been leaving you breadcrumbs to follow her to Boston two years ago? She wanted you to find her, only she couldn't tell you anything so she deliberately left a trail."

"What trail?" Garcia cried out. "She left everything here, didn't use a credit card…"

"How did you first discover she was missing?"

"Hotch called her phone and it was in her desk…" Reid's voice trailed out as he stopped to examine those events from two years ago. As his brilliant mind started to make the connections once pointed in the right direction and looking at the situation with fresh, and not pain and grief-stricken eyes, realization hit him. "Oh, Emily."

Easter nodded even as Garcia swung an irritated and puzzled look at both of them. "What? What is it?"

"Do you think a woman, an agent, with Emily's training and intelligence would leave her cell phone in her desk drawer? What would be the first thing you'd do if you couldn't locate her? Call her phone. Seeing it with her badge and gun you knew immediately she was on the run. I read the file and the details from each of your reports. Agents Rossi and Morgan went to her apartment and found the ring Doyle gave her in the toilet. She knew something that heavy wouldn't flush. So she was telling you the nature of the relationship she had with Doyle and what _she_ meant to him, to help you build the profile and find her faster.

"Then there's Fahey. While I don't think Emily would ever kill anyone in cold-blood, she's smart enough to not simply let Fahey walk away. She deliberately let him go with a little nick on his ear because she knew he would run straight to Doyle, eager to betray her with him. Emily _knew_ she was walking into an ambush but it was the most expedient way to find Doyle. Let him take her and hope to God you lot found her in time.

"But Fahey served a dual purpose. He was Irish Mob and she knew that you would naturally pick him up in a sweep. She needed him to tell Doyle about her presence, but she also needed him to tell you where to find Doyle.

"I asked her once what happened when she was with Doyle, waiting for someone to save her. She said it was never about saving her. It was about making sure there was a back-up plan in case Doyle got through her. She wanted to make sure someone was there to take him down if that happened. I knew a part of her was lying. She did hope someone would save her. She told me how she had distracted him and stretched out that time with him, telling stories like Scheherazade, waiting until she couldn't anymore."

Clyde fell silent and then stood abruptly to go to the doors at the back of the van. His hand paused on the handle and he spoke quietly over his shoulder.

"I don't blame you and neither does she. I'm more ashamed and upset at myself for not seeing it back then. If I hadn't been so scared for myself and Emily, so worried, maybe I would have been able to help, to get to her faster and stop Doyle back then. But I didn't, and that's something I will have to live with for the rest of my life." He opened the back doors and jumped out. They slammed closed behind him, sending in a puff of cold air.

Garcia and Reid sat quietly for a moment and then looked at each other. Neither said anything as they turned back to their work, re-doubling their efforts at locating Emily and the others. They may have failed her two years ago, but they will not this time.

About twenty minutes later, another man came in. He was shorter than Doyle, stocky and a few years younger. His dark hair was cropped close and his blue eyes were piercing and cold, giving him an almost other-worldly look with his dark features. He stopped by Emily, contemplating her for a few moments. The other men tensed, wondering what was coming next.

* * *

The man sighed and bent over to pick up Emily and the chair she was still tied to and set them upright. He also picked up the knife and replaced it on the little table. He leaned over Emily and felt for a pulse and then pushed her hair back to look into her face, before releasing it. Her head flopped forward, her hair creating a curtain to cover her features.

The man shook his head. "You're pretty enough," he murmured, "But Doyle's a fool. He's wastin' valuable time and resources."

"And you think time would be far better spent on business than indulging in person revenge."

The man turned to look at Hotch who had spoken to him. He tilted his head as he regarded the FBI agent. "This one," he gestured towards Emily. "Has been very bad for business. She's disrupted many of our operations. It was wise of Ian to stop her." His tone was stubbornly loyal, but the slight uncertainty in his eyes belied his concern for the entire situation. Hotch pounced.

"But he's also kidnapped three federal agents, drawing the attention of law enforcement in this country, several federal agencies and many other people to him. Do you think that was smart of him?"

The man pursed his lips. "It was necessary to draw her out." He sounded a little less certain and loyal.

"But it's gone too far and you realize that," Hotch continued in that calm, reasonable voice. Rossi stole a glance over at the younger man, surprised at this shift in him. It was as though Emily's brutal beating snapped him back to the agent he was, the agent they needed him to be if they hoped to survive. Of course, that was it. To see Emily so brutalized, so hurt, so threatened, it was the catalyst for Aaron to regain his balance because he would do whatever was needed to protect her. Rossi already knew she was Aaron's anchor. Looks like his old friend has found his footing once again.

"We can end this. You can let us all go. I know you didn't sign up to kidnap and hurt, maybe murder federal agents."

"And betray Ian?" the man scoffed. "Never."

"But didn't he betray your trust by going so far with this? You must know he's not stable. He keeps drifting back and forth thinking of her," Hotch jerked his chin towards a still unconscious Emily, "As Lauren, the illusion she created and who she really is. Can you trust a man who can't seem to stay in reality?"

The other man bit his lip. He had been listening to the conversations between Doyle and this lot and he was worried. Even he could see that Ian Doyle had only a partial grip on reality. Doyle was already one of the most wanted on the international scene, now adding the kidnapping and possible death of three federal agents on US soil? Doyle's face had been plastered all over the news, they no longer could move as freely as they had. That had been the beauty of only being on the CIA's radar, they didn't put their wanted men on the bloody news. The FBI did. He came to a decision, trying to salvage what was left of Doyle's once great organization.

"She stays, but I can probably get you three out," the man finally said.

"No," Hotch said immediately. "It's got to be all of us. She needs to come with us too."

The man shook his head. "No. She needs to stay. Ian will have my head if I let her go."

Hotch glanced over at Rossi who shook his head and then at Derek who all but snorted at him. No way were they leaving Emily and Hotch behind because they knew that Hotch's next words would be to let them go and he would stay with her. No, they were all in this together and they will get out of it together.

"Then I guess we're all staying," Hotch replied calmly.

The man stared at them in disbelief and then looked back down at the woman who had not moved, her head still bent forward, her hair hiding her face. He shook his own head.

"She has to be a Hell of a woman for you lot to do this. And for Ian to be this crazy over her." He shook his head again and shrugged. "I'll make sure to say a wee pray for your souls." He turned around and left the room.

His footsteps faded away until there was silence. Finally, a raspy voice said,

"I always knew you guys were idiots."

**A/N: Seriously, am I the only one who saw the big glaring trail that Emily left for them? I mean, she's a smart super spy and she leaves her phone in her desk, knowing calling her is the first thing they'll do when they can't find her. Then she tries to flush a ring down the toilet? And the biggest thing was leaving Fahey alive. I know they wouldn't paint her as a cold-blooded killer, but she could have left him locked up somewhere. There's even a line she has in "Lauren" about how she was stalling with Doyle. So I can only chalk it up to Emily leaving them a big neon colored trail to follow, but they were so worried and discombobulated, none of them were** **working rationally. Seriously, Clyde Easter didn't have really anything to offer, but Hotch wasted all his time there. Rossi relied on Seaver for Heaven's sakes. Morgan just bounced around going, "Man, why'd she do it?" So I chalk it up to them not being able to function while worried about her and noting, again, how she anchored them.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thank you all for the kind wishes. My trip actually was a business trip, so it wasn't a vacation. But thanks for the kind thoughts! We're getting to the boiling point now and I appreciate all the people who are sticking to this story. I hope you've been enjoying it and again, I love to read your feedback and thoughts. I know everyone has a different take on things and different scenarios on how Emily could come back. I just hope people have enjoyed my version. Reviews are welcomed!**

"Coffee?"

Clyde Easter turned around to see Jennifer Jareau standing behind him holding two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee in her mittened hands. He took one and nodded his thanks absently as he turned back to the view he had been contemplating, a desolate field on the outskirts of Baltimore.

JJ stepped up next to him and for a few moments, they simply stared out into the empty darkness of the field.

"She's a good agent. Emily. If anyone can figure out a way out of there, with minimal losses, it's her," Easter said breaking the silence.

JJ winced slightly. "I hope she can do more than just 'minimal losses.'"

"If it's possible, she will." They fell silent again, but JJ stole a few looks at her companion.

"I read the Doyle file," she said quietly. "The classified version. Your operation. Emily's part in it. I know she was Doyle's type, but she had never done deep cover like that before and this was a risky and sensitive operation. Why her?"

Easter sighed and looked down at his shoes before his eyes went back towards the darkened field. "She has the wonderful qualities that make a good undercover agent. Intelligence, tenacity, the ability to assess and make decisive and good decisions in a dangerous situation, an almost chameleon like quality when she chooses. But the one thing that makes her a terrible undercover agent is that Emily Prentiss feels too much. Oh, I know she has this wonderful ability to compartmentalize. She even boasts about it sometimes. But that only allows her to put away her feelings for herself. What she can't compartmentalize is how she feels about others. And the wonderful yet damming thing about Emily, is her compassion, and that's what gets her into trouble."

He finally turned to look at JJ.

"We picked Emily because she was Doyle's type and she had the skills to do the job. But Doyle picked Emily because he fell in love with the woman she truly is, a warm, loving, compassionate woman that is irresistible to a man with a blackened soul. It's like a moth being drawn to a flame. You want someone, with that much warmth, that much love, to love you too, to reassure you that you are deserving of love. To be your salvation."

JJ stared at Easter for a moment. "You're in love with her too, aren't you?"

Clyde let out a short bark of laughter. "Have been for years, but then again, us blokes with darkened and damaged souls have a tendency to fall for a woman like Emily."

"Does she know?" JJ asked softly.

Easter shook his head. "My own fault really. Never got up enough courage to tell her and then she was gone. The Interpol operation ended. She left the CIA and joined a domestic law enforcement agency. I always hid behind flirting or outrageous comments so she never took me seriously and then it was too late. My chance had passed." He let out a short bark of laughter. "It's ironic how she manages to collect fellows like me. Doyle, myself, Hotchner…"

"Hotch?" JJ's voice scaled up in disbelief. "Uh, I think you're a little off there. There's never been anything between Hotch and Emily."

"Really?" Easter raised an eyebrow. Disbelief was clearly written on his face. "Considering how he was acting, threatening to, how did he put it, "destroy me" if anything happened to Emily when Doyle had her two years ago."

"But, that's just Hotch," JJ replied. "He's intense and protective of all of us. The team, we're his family and he'll do anything for family."

Clyde stared at her for a moment, long enough to make JJ begin to doubt her assessment of Hotch and Prentiss' relationship. Protective of family was one thing, that would call for a threat of torture, maiming, simple killing, but he remembered the cold tone Hotchner had used when he said he would destroy Clyde if Emily was hurt in any way. He knew what that meant because he would have said the same thing in the same way. Dark and damaged souls recognized each other and whether Aaron Hotchner realized it or not, he too had fallen under Emily Prentiss' spell, like he and Doyle had. Finally he shrugged. "Perhaps you're right." He drained the rest of his coffee and moved back towards the surveillance truck Reid and Garcia still occupied.

JJ watched as he opened the doors and climbed in, shutting them behind him with a loud slam. She glanced at her lukewarm coffee and then took up Easter's former position as she began to stare out into the nothingness of the empty field.

* * *

"How long have you been listening?" Hotch asked as Emily slowly raised her head.

"Long enough to reaffirm my earlier statement: you guys are idiots," she groaned as she tried to shake some of her hair away from her face. She saw them wince when they got a good look at her injuries. "That bad?"

"Honey, I've seen you look better," Rossi added gently.

Emily couldn't bite back a small moan as she rolled her shoulders a little. "What Cyrus did a few years ago has nothing on Ian." She mentally did a quick assessment of her injuries. The bruises hurt and her shoulder ached, but what concerned her was the dull throb in her side. The ribs might not be broken, but they were definitely in bad shape and it would mean some restriction to her movements when she got free.

"That was reckless and stupid, Prentiss," Hotch snapped out coldly as he glared at her.

"With all due respect, sir," only Emily could make a "sir" or "ma'am" sound like a "screw you", "I was trying to distract him and stop him from killing you."

"Oh you did that, but only by almost getting beaten to death," Hotch growled.

Her face softened slightly, knowing Hotch was only worried about her and angry and frustrated by his own lack of ability to do anything to help. "Hotch, I did what I had to do to protect you. I'd do it all over again."

That didn't make any of the men feel any better. In Colorado, they had felt helpless, useless as they listened to her being beaten and could do nothing, but now, they felt almost emasculated. While they all knew Emily Prentiss was a strong, capable woman, all three men had ingrained into their souls that a man should always protect a woman, especially someone who was family. They had failed, not only her, but themselves as men. It was a bitter blow and gave them a little more insight and sympathy to how Reid must have felt after Colorado.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"About twenty minutes," Hotch replied. He peered closely at her when he saw the flash of surprise in her eyes. "Something significant about the time that's elapsed?"

"I hadn't realized I've been here so long," she muttered.

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "It's been about an hour, or maybe more like fifty-three minutes."

Emily gave him a look, having forgotten Hotch's almost freakish ability to track time. "How many seconds?" she joked.

"Thirty-six," he deadpanned with a slight quirk of his lips.

Emily let out a short laugh and Hotch found that he had missed hearing that sound. His face softened marginally as he looked at her and when she caught him staring she offered him a small smile. "So who was the potentially good Samaritan I was dealing with?"

"John Frye," Emily replied. "A man who has done many bad things, but at heart, a businessman. You picked well, Hotch, if there was anyone in Doyle's organization you could potentially target, it's Frye. The bottomline is much more important to him, though there is still that deep streak of loyalty to Doyle."

"How much do you know about his organization?" Rossi asked.

"Enough to cause some damage," Emily replied as she tried to hitch her shoulders. She winced slightly. "Doyle is a brilliant organizer, but I'm still not sure how he managed to keep so much of his network intact for it to be as operational as it was when he got out of that North Korean prison."

"You said he had loyal followers," Hotch tilted his head to the side, regarding her. "Isn't it likely they simply kept it up, hoping one day he'll return?"

Emily shook her head. "I was in deep undercover, and no one I came across had the talent, knowledge and loyalty to do that for all these years. If someone was keeping it afloat, they're a Hell of a lot more dangerous than Ian Doyle in a lot of ways."

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked.

"Arms dealers, the major ones, typically have a signature. You just know who was behind a sale or an attack. If someone was running Doyle's organization in his absence, they've managed to cover their business tracks extremely well, so well, it never popped up on anyone's radar as leading back to a specific person or Doyle's organization." Emily rolled her shoulders again, this time in a gesture Hotch recognized as being uneasiness. "That makes this person a chameleon of sorts, hard to trace, hard to find, because we don't even know he or she is there."

She left the immediate danger to them from this unknown person unspoken, but the men were smart enough to realize what it could mean to them. Doyle was slowly becoming unhinged. There was someone in the background, someone smart, someone organized and likely someone very sane. Perhaps loyalty led this person to break Doyle out of jail, but as he continued on this deteriorating path, this unknown person could easily decide to intervene to protect the organization and not only put a bullet in Doyle's brain, but in the name of efficiency and loose ends, also easily and quickly put similar bullets in each of their brains without a second thought.

And that person they would never be able to manipulate or sway.

There had been one question lingering in each of their minds and both Hotch and Rossi were relieved when Derek screwed up enough courage to ask.

"Was it true?" he began softly. "Were you pregnant with his baby?"

Emily paused and she stared at Derek. The men held their breaths, waiting to hear her answer. Then she rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "We're being held prisoner by an unhinged mass murderer who just beat the crap out of me and you want to talk about _that_? No Derek, it wasn't true, I was only trying to distract him from slitting Hotch's throat!"

"You picked a Hell of a way to do it," Rossi commented. "Couldn't you have picked a subject that would have produced a less…volatile reaction?"

Emily shook her head slowly and regretted it. "Had to make sure his focus shifted and children, his children, was something I knew I could get a rise out of him." She did an odd little movement with her shoulders and arms again. Hotch looked at her curiously.

"You landed hard on that shoulder," he said, nodding at her right one. "How bad is it?"

Emily paused, her movements stilling and then she casually remarked. "It's okay. I'm sure the fall looked worse than it really was."

Hotch's eyes, along with Morgan and Rossi's, narrowed. She was up to something and she didn't want to talk about it. Granted, they couldn't be certain if they weren't still being watched in some way, so if Emily did have a trick up her sleeve, it would be wise to just let her use it when she was ready and not tip her hand before then.

"You know," she continued. "I do want to ask, what did Hotch do to get Doyle so pissed off at him?"

"What do you mean by that?" the man in question shot back defensively.

Emily snorted. "Oh please, it's obvious before I got here that Doyle's favorite punching bag was you." One eye was beginning to swell up, but she still managed to squint thoughtfully at Hotch. "In fact, a lot of his taunts were directed at you. It was almost as if he was more interested in baiting you than me. Why is that? He doesn't even know you and according to Reid, none of you have even gotten close to finding him or his operations in the past two years, so you didn't piss him off that way. What's going on?"

Hotch cleared his throat and Emily could see a faint blush tint his cheeks. She looked at him in confusion and then swung her head to look at Morgan and Rossi who appeared to be trying to avoid her gaze.

"Doyle," Hotch began, his already deep voice lowering an additional octave or two. "Appears to be under the misunderstanding that there is something between us."

"Something between us?" Prentiss repeated. "Like what?"

Hotch glared at her. She couldn't figure it out from that? She was going to make him say it? The genuine confusion on her face made him sigh internally. "He thinks there is a…relationship between us."

The men were treated to one of the rare occasions that Emily Prentiss was rendered dumbstruck. Her mouth opened slightly to form a surprised little "O" and her eyes widened, even the one that was swelling up.

"Oh for Heaven's sakes," she sighed in exasperation.

Hotch didn't know if he should have felt offended by her tone.

"And none of you could have warned me about that little tidbit before I went blundering into things?" Prentiss snapped. "A little advance warning that Doyle might be feeling a little threatened by Hotch would have been nice."

"Sorry, Prentiss," Derek snarled back before Hotch could say anything. "We were a little stunned by seeing you, you know, _alive_!"

"So stunned you apparently lost what little brain cells you have left!" Prentiss shot at him. "You should have taken Frye up on his offer to get your three out of here. But no, you all had to play the big heroes."

"Well, someone has to make sure your ass is covered."

"My ass is fine."

"Haven't had a chance to check it out yet."

"That's enough," Hotch said quietly, taking control of the situation. Rossi gave him another approving look. Since Emily's beating, Hotch seemed to find his equilibrium. His curt order of Doyle to leave the room had tilted the balance of power towards himself. He had handled Doyle's underling, drawing him in and made the first tentative links with one of their captors who had seemed open to helping them. Now he was asserting himself with them, taking back his role as their leader.

_Well, welcome back Aaron Hotchner, _Rossi thought. _I missed you, you grumpy, old son of a bitch._ Rossi wondered if all it took to really bring Aaron Hotchner back from the brink was the beaten and bruised woman in front of him who seemed more annoyed than happy to see the old Hotch._._

Emily glared mulishly back at Hotch. Derek, like Rossi, had also picked up on the change in Hotch and was extremely pleased and relieved to see it. To deflect some of Emily's attention away from the man and to make up for his somewhat childish argument with Prentiss, he asked her,

"Hey Prentiss, how's Baby Girl holding up?"

Emily's face shuttered, raising red flags for the men as she seemed to drop a cool mask over her features.

"As well as can be expected."

She didn't want to discuss the BAU or what was being done to find them. Was it because there was some plan in place and she didn't want Doyle or his men to hear them? Or was it because she had done this on her own? Attempted, yet again, to face Doyle and his army by herself? Or did the others and the Bureau turn their back on her? Doyle had mentioned she was at the BAU, but he had also alluded to some strife between Emily and the others. None of the men believed that their former teammates would allow their feelings to jeopardize an opportunity to save them, but then again, could they control what they felt? Especially without the stronger, guiding hands of Hotchner and Rossi around? Two years ago, even with their presence, the two men realized what a mess they had made of the Doyle investigation when all their teammate's emotions had run rampant and driven the investigation. They believed their failure was largely due to Emily's secrets and her refusal to trust them which left them with very little information to go on.

"_I did what I thought was best to protect the people I loved the most. It was never a question of trust. If anything, perhaps I trusted in your abilities too much."_

Emily had said that when she first arrived. _If anything, perhaps I trusted in your abilities too much._ What did Emily mean by that? Rossi thought back to when they first realized Emily was missing. Hotch tried calling her and they discovered her cell phone, gun and badge in her desk. In the middle of the bullpen where it would be found immediately if they only called her phone.

Rossi's eyes widened as the events from two years ago flashed through his mind like a movie shown at ten times the normal speed. It all clicked into place for him and he realized as he turned to look at Hotch that the younger man had also come to the same realization as they locked eyes with each other.

"Two years ago," Hotch began as he slowly turned his head to look at Emily. "Two years ago, we thought you were running and didn't want our help, but that's not true, is it?"

"What?" Derek queried in surprise. He saw Emily look steadily at Hotch. "What are you talking about, Hotch?"

"You're too good, too smart, you wouldn't have left that trail for us to follow," Hotch continued, his eyes boring steadily into Emily's. "The cell phone, Fahey, you were leaving a trail for us. You wanted us to find you."

"It doesn't matter, Hotch," she said softly, her eyes showing a momentarily flash of pain. "It's water under the bridge."

"No," Hotch shook his head, determined to pay penance for thinking so wrongly about the woman before him for two years. "No, it's not okay. All of us had wondered, questioned, demanded, and yes, even cursed you, wondering why you didn't say something sooner or let us help you. But you did. You tried to leave us a trail to find you. To save you. And we failed."

Emily bit her lip as she looked at the devastated looks on her friends' faces, Morgan having finally realized what Hotch and Rossi had only moments before figured out. She couldn't let them carry any more pain because of her so she provided them with a half-truth, hoping it would spare them. "No," she replied quietly. "I was ready to die. Prepared to. What I hoped you would be able to do, if I failed, was to take care of Doyle. You were my contingency plan. I never expected you to save me."

Hotch stared at her, into those warm brown eyes that had suddenly gone cold and flat, locking away her emotions, her thoughts and that was when he knew.

"You're lying," he said flatly.

"Believe what you want, Hotch," Emily returned steadily. "But I never expected you to save me."

The men knew she was lying to spare their feelings and it made it even worse. She could see they didn't believe her and Emily sighed aloud.

"Now's not the time to rehash the past," she said quietly. She took a deep breath and winced, something Hotch and the others took notice of immediately, as her ribs protested. "Just know that I think things are going to come to an end soon, and know whatever happened between us, at least on my end, I don't think there's anything any of you have done that needs to be forgiven. But if you feel otherwise, know that I do forgive you and that," she swallowed hard. "You have been my family all these years and I love each of you."

"Emily," Hotch began, panic rising in his chest. What was she planning? That sounded way too much like a goodbye. He wiggled the one arm on the chair that had loosened. "What-?"

"Lauren!"

Hotch stopped his question as Ian Doyle rushed back into the room. He dropped to his knees before Emily, ignoring the men. He carried with him a small basin of water and a clean towel. With loving hands, he gently began to clean up Emily's face.

"Oh Lauren," Ian sniffled. "I'm so sorry."

So she was once again Lauren to this man.

_It's now or never,_ Emily thought grimly to herself.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, there's a little more Hotch/Emily here. I know I dubbed this partly a romance, but I had thought this would be one epic story, now I'm thinking it might be several smaller stories. So, that romance will develop over time. However, strong seeds are being planted, or I think they are!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: "Mo chroi", according to some website means "my heart" in Gaelic. Don't know if that's accurate or not, but I thought I throw in a term of endearment Doyle might have had for Emily. Reviews are always welcomed! I'm close to #200. Whoo hoo!**

"I'm so sorry, _mo chroi_," Ian whispered as he gently cleaned Emily's face with the dampened towel, his loving ministrations so at odds with the violence of his fists and feet a short time ago. "I don't know what came over me. You know I would rather cut off my own arm than hurt you."

Hotch couldn't help but curl his lip slightly hearing those words from Doyle, but he said nothing. For the moment, no one existed for the Irishman, but the battered woman in front of him who was carefully weighing her next move. With them distracted, Hotch continued to gently wiggle the loosened arm on his chair.

"Ian," Emily said softly. "This needs to stop. This violence between us."

"I know, luv," he crooned as he brushed back her hair. "And I swear I'll never raise my hand to you again." He sighed and pressed his cheek against hers. "I know you lied to me, Lauren, and I understand why. I should have known that you wouldn't harm a child. Not you. But you didn't want to see any more bloodshed, so you tried to pull me back and you said what you said. I get it. I understand."

The other men could see Emily's eyes widen and then close painfully as a few tears leaked out. Hotch and Morgan shifted uneasily, wondering if Doyle's words were impacting their friend in some way, but Rossi gazed at her compassionately, knowing that only one part of Ian's speech had truly affected her, the part where he thought she would never harm a child. Dave knew Emily was thinking of the unborn baby she aborted when she was still a child herself and his heart went out to the woman though he still hoped she was keeping her wits about her.

"Then let's end this now, Ian," she murmured as she shifted her head away from him. He drew back from her to gaze into her face. "Let them go and I'll stay with you."

She was becoming more adept at reading him and when the blue of his eyes changed slightly, she was afraid he had tumbled back into reality and knew exactly what she was doing, but his next words left her stunned and speechless.

"You were supposed to be my savoir, Emily," he said in a calm, rational and strangely loving tone. She regarded him warily for this was another Ian she had not seen yet and had she looked at them, she would realize it was something unexpected to her teammates as well. "Blood, violence, war, it was all I knew. My one oasis, my one port of safety was Declan, but I couldn't really even claim him as my own, always fearful of my enemies using him against me."

He reached out and caressed her hair, his fingers tracing her cheek and then jaw in a loving stroke. "But then you came along, and the darkness, the darkness within me didn't frighten you. And when I was with you, it seemed to fade. You were pretending to be an arms dealer and yet, there was always this light about you that drew me in, that made me want to bask in your brightness and warmth."

Emily sighed tiredly. "Ian," she murmured quietly. "I'm no one's salvation. I can't save anyone and you're sadly mistaken if you think I'm only sunshine and light."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Oh, you under-estimate yourself, luv." He tilted his head and smiled fondly at her. "Remember when you found out Declan was mine? You knew what I was then, Emily, yet you still tried to save me. You asked me to leave my life, to get out of that business so I could be with my son." He reached out to grasp her shoulders. "You tried to save me, Emily. It's who you are."

Even as Emily shook her head, denying Doyle's description of herself, Hotch couldn't help but agree with the man. How many times had he seen Emily Prentiss extend that one moment of compassion towards some of their worst killers they've come across if they showed a glimmer of humanity? He could see her doing that with Doyle if she saw a father who loved but was separated from his son. She would try to convince him to turn his life around, to take an alternative path for his child and ultimately for himself. Yes, he could see Emily extending that compassion to even this man. It didn't mean he had to like it, but he could see it happening. That was simply Emily.

"What is this really about, Ian?" she asked finally in a weary voice. "It's not about Declan. You haven't once asked me where he is, and quite honestly, after all this time, I really don't know. I'm sure you're smart enough to know by now that his identity would have changed more than once and he would have been moved just as many times. I would have no knowledge of that. So if this isn't about Declan, what is it about? Revenge on me? If that's what it is, just do it and get it over with, but let the others go. I'm willing to pay my penance."

Hotch fought the urge to bark out her name as he heard Emily make a trade of her life for theirs. He continued to work even more feverishly on the loosened chair arm, making enough noise to be heard by their captor, but Doyle's world had narrowed down to Emily and he remained unaware of Hotch's efforts. Rossi and Morgan though agitated as well, kept quiet, keeping one eye on Hotch's struggles and one on the couple before them.

"No, no, no," Ian shook his head. "That's not what this is about. I did all this because I needed to know the truth. I needed to ask you something."

She regarded him warily, but simply nodded her head. What else was there to do?

"Was it all just an act, Emily?" Doyle asked quietly. "Did you not feel anything for me all that time we were together? Did you ever love me?"

She stared at him, surprised that this was his question. She dared not take her eyes off of Doyle to look at her friends, but she could sense that they too were holding themselves tense and ready, on tenterhooks waiting to hear her answer. Emily licked her lips, taking her time, stalling for time, which is what she had been doing since she arrived and she had run out of options. She glanced down in her lap and tensed her muscles, knowing she would be making her last move now. Suddenly she relaxed as the option became clear to her.

Emily looked up and stared into Ian's eyes. She said in a gentle voice.

"Did I ever feel anything for you? Yes. Was it love? No. No, I'm sorry, Ian. It wasn't love. It was sorrow because I saw the man you could have been if Fate hadn't intervened, decisions that could have been different. It was sorrow that you never could have a relationship with your son. I ached for you because of your loss, but I did not love you."

Doyle stared into her eyes and then slowly closed his. He let out a breath and unbeknownst to him and Emily, Hotch mirrored his actions behind him, the BAU man's emotions were far different from Doyle's. The Irishman opened his eyes again and Emily saw resignation in them.

"You could have lied," he said quietly.

"I could have, but would you have truly believed me?" she said. Emily tilted her head to one side. Had any of the men in the room truly thought about it, they might have wondered about her calm and relaxed manner for there was no more reason for Doyle to keep her or the other men alive now. "You and I both know, that either one of us, or neither of us will leave this warehouse alive tonight. This is where it ends, with one or both of us dead."

He gave her a crooked smile. "A rather tragic love story. But a love story that was one-sided."

She gave him a gentle look. "I'm sorry, Ian."

Doyle nodded his head. "And I'm sorry that the one who will be dead tonight will be you."

"I rather believe there's a better shot of it being both of us," Emily replied in a cold tone.

Her right fist shot out and she punched Ian Doyle in the jaw, sending him sprawling backwards and crashing into the floor.

**A/N 2: The real action stuff begins in the next part and a lot of those seeds I've planted throughout this story come together over the next few parts. I don't know if you would call them twists or not, but I hope you enjoy them! Stay tuned!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I'm putting this up now because I don't think I'll have time to put up a part on Sunday since its Mother's Day here in the States. This part will answer a lot of questions people have had throughout the story and I think it might bring up a couple of more questions as I'm planting seeds to what happens in the future. Hope you enjoy and review! I'm definitely interested in hearing what folks think. As for what someone said about thinking Emily might have been in love with Doyle in "Lauren", I agree it could be interpreted that way, but I'm going for strong feelings for him, but not the strong enough to call love. Hey, afterall, I'm a Hotch/Prentiss gal!**

_Thirty-six hours earlier somewhere over the Atlantic in a military transport._

"Doyle's mole will be there."

Clyde Easter turned to look at his travel companion. "You think so?"

"It's a multi-agency effort, you said," Emily continued. She stared out the window, her voice thoughtful. "The mole, from what you tell me, would have a fairly high security clearance plus he, or she, seems very good with computers. Even if he wasn't placed on the task force to find Hotch and the others, he could probably arrange it. A few strokes to make sure his name is on the team roPeople only check the computer records these days."

"So Doyle will have continuous information on the investigation and you?"

"Mmmhmmm."

Easter regarded Emily's profile as she continued to stare out of the window. "What are you planning?"

"To use that mole to our advantage. I can only trust the remaining members of my former team. We'll need to bring in someone on the outside to run tactical and I have just the person in mind." She finally turned to look at Clyde. "There's going to have to be an extraction. I don't think Doyle will just release Hotch and the others. We'll need a tactical team and without Hotch or Morgan to lead it, there's just one other person I can trust to do a good job."

"Somehow I don't believe you're talking about me."

Emily smiled grimly at him. "You're a sneaky bastard, Clyde, but when you go it, it's either to steal something or you go in to clean house. I need someone who can make sure there will be minimal loss."

"And who is this person?"

"Major Dan Torre. He helped out once in a case. He'll get the job done and I know he's clean."

Easter nodded. "I'll make sure he arranges it so this Torre is at our disposal."

Emily pursed her lips. "Any word from him?"

"Just that he's monitoring the situation and to get you whatever you need."

Emily nodded and turned her head back to look out the window. "I won't need much. We'll need to keep this small. Not trust too many people." She turned back to look at Clyde. "You remember our code, right?"

"Oh darling, which one?" Easter replied lightly, but uncomfortably aware of what she was alluding to.

Emily scowled at him. "Clyde, promise me you'll remember it. One agent's life is not worth the mission and the mission here is saving Hotch, Morgan and Rossi and bringing down Doyle, once and for all. No matter the cost, those goals are the only ones that are important."

* * *

_Twenty-nine hours earlier, in the hallway of the BAU._

"Emily!"

Spencer jogged up to Emily Prentiss and pulled her off towards the side. He whispered in her ear. "What did Clyde Easter slip to you?"

She looked around and saw they were alone. She then said quietly. "Come with me to Garcia's office."

They walked the short distance to the tech analyst's lair. JJ and Penelope looked up at them in surprise. Emily closed the door and got right to the point.

"The mole that hacked into my file is likely here on one of the teams from the other agencies. We don't know who he or she is, but I can't imagine Doyle passing up an opportunity to have someone on the inside. Pen's office is the only place where we can be assured of some privacy because none of the other agencies' staff are allowed down here. However, we can't be seen disappearing constantly so we'll have to keep these meetings brief and few."

They stared at her in surprise and JJ found her voice first. "What's the plan?"

"If the mole is here, he's feeding information back to Doyle. I need the three of you to shut me out. Blame me for all of this, wish I had truly died and never come back." She gave them a grim smile. "It might not be as difficult as you think."

Garcia gasped, hurt, yet feeling somewhat guilty as Emily's comments hit a little too close to the truth.

"You want to foster an appearance of isolation for Doyle," Reid said slowly. "Think you're more vulnerable so when you ultimately face him, he'll be more focused on you and breaking you."

"Wait, what do you mean when Emily faces him?" JJ asked, alarmed at what she thought her friend was planning.

"It's what this is going to have to come down to," Prentiss said crisply. "We'll never find Hotch and the others in time. We'll have to let Doyle take me to him."

"And then what? You fight him and his army alone?" Garcia snapped out. "That worked so well last time."

"You'll track me," Emily sighed. "Clyde has already secured Dan Torre and his team. They should already be on their way here and arrive within two hours."

"Why do you need Doyle to focus in on you? To appear vulnerable?" JJ pressed.

Emily looked steadily into JJ's blue eyes. "So he _will_ focus on me and won't begin the torture on the others right away."

"That mean, he might…," Reid couldn't bring himself to say 'torture you instead'.

Emily nodded. "It's highly possible, but hopefully I can keep him talking. I can't imagine stretching it out longer than an hour before he starts to do some serious damage to one of us so I'll need Torre to be tracking me fairly closely and getting into wherever we'll be fast." She pulled the item Clyde had slipped into her pocket out for the others to see. A pair of enameled cufflinks sat in the middle of her palm. "One cufflink is a tracker. That's what you'll be following. Its maximum distance is a mile, which you'll need to keep. Doyle will have spotters along the route to make sure there's no tail."

"What's the other cufflink?" Reid asked.

"A lock pick. He doesn't trust traditional ties on me so he'll use handcuffs. We'll need another tracker that one of you will have to plant on me."

"It fosters the image of distrust plus it creates a smokescreen for Doyle. If he finds one tracker, he likely won't look for another." Reid nodded, following her line of thinking.

"And if he thinks you guys distrust me, he'll believe I'm acting on my own and won't anticipate back up," Emily finished.

"Well, he's got good reason to think that," Garcia grumbled. She ignored the look Emily gave her and after a moment of silence, the brunette simply moved on, biting back a sharp, defensive response. Now was not the time.

"We'll meet back here after Doyle's contacted me. Until then, play your parts," Emily shot out curtly. "The Hotch, Morgan and Rossi's lives depend on it."

Their performances had been very convincing and Emily found she did not have to reach too far to show her distress. They all played their parts, making sure an audience was around as Garcia wished she hadn't come back and blamed her for the kidnappings; as Reid looked upon her suspiciously and attached the tracer to her coat. Everything was going to plan until they lost the signal.

* * *

_Ninety minutes earlier, Baltimore, MD._

"What if he found this tracker too?" JJ asked worriedly, practically gnawing her nails.

They had narrowed down the geographic profile somewhat but there were three separate locations they had to check out with no guarantee the first location they selected would be the right place.

"Emily said an hour," Garcia nervously chewed on her pen. "She said she could probably hold off Doyle for about an hour before he started to inflict some real and permanent damage. It's been three hours since we've lost her trail and we don't know how long she's been with that maniac!"

"Is there any way to narrow down the choices?" Clyde asked desperately. "Up our chances in selecting the right one first?"

"I've put the most likely one first already," Reid snapped tersely, sweat beading his forehead. He rubbed his temple, a headache, his almost constant companion for three years, pounding a relentless beat in his head.

"Emily doesn't have-," Clyde began when a small beep interrupted him.

Garcia leapt onto her laptop and started tapping away at the keyboard. "It's Emily's tracer! We've got a signal again!"

* * *

Emily's right fist shot out and she punched Ian Doyle in the jaw, sending him sprawling backwards and crashing into the floor. She lunged towards the small table and scooped up the knife. With two quick movements, she had sliced through the ties around her ankles and she stood up, one hand grasping the knife and the other one balled into a fist that was using one of the handcuffs as makeshift brass knuckles.

They heard what Emily had heard a minute earlier. Gunshots. A battle was being waged in other parts of the warehouse and it was only a matter of time before foe or friend came through the doorway.

She moved towards Doyle, the knife ready, but he had recovered and lashed out, catching her in her stomach with his foot. His hand came up and swatted the knife away. It skittered across the floor towards Hotch, landing close to his chair.

As Emily stumbled backwards, clutching her stomach, Doyle stood, an angry, maniacal light in his eyes. "You always were terrible with a knife, Emily."

He moved towards her, ready to deliver an uppercut which she just barely caught with one arm. Emily brought her knee up and delivered her own blow to Doyle's stomach. As he gasped for breath, she used the arm she still held to swing his body around and threw him towards the railing that was the only barrier between them and nothingness and as far away from Hotch and the others as possible.

"I prefer hand-to-hand anyway," she snarled as she lunged towards him, getting between Doyle and his other captives.

Hotch yanked hard on the loosened arm of the chair and was finally rewarded for his efforts as it came free. Quickly he snaked his arm loose and then lunged forward, trying to reach the knife. With his other arm and ankles still pinned, he found the knife just a few millimeters out of his reach. He growled in frustration and leaned forward a little more, the remaining restraints biting further into his flesh, but his fingers brushed the blade of the knife. With his fingertips, Hotch managed to bring the knife a half an inch closer to him. It was enough and he pressed his fingers down on the blade and dragged it towards him until he was able to grasp the handle and began to hack away at his remaining bonds.

Emily was driving Doyle as far away from her friends as she could. If she didn't stop him, Doyle could easily kill Hotch and the others before help arrived. Her body screamed in protest, Doyle's earlier beating slowing her, weakening her a bit, but the adrenaline pushed her through the pain as she and Doyle exchanged blow after, blow. She nearly took out his knee completely with a well placed kick. His punch landed on her already bruised ribs. Her roundhouse kick caught his jaw and once again her makeshift brass knuckles left an imprint on his cheek.

The blow to Ian's knee made him stumble and fall. Emily kicked his jaw and sent him crashing against the rusted railing where it shifted and groaned, but held as he laid stunned on the ground. Emily started to move towards him when out of her peripheral vision, she saw a familiar blonde head bobbing in the doorway of the room. What alarmed her was a shadowy figure behind the blonde head raising a gun and aiming.

Emily's head whipped around and she could only scream out in warning, "JJ!"

JJ acted instinctively and dropped to the ground, the bullet whizzing harmlessly through the air she had occupied a second before. Emily's warning had alerted Clyde Easter who with Reid, had entered the room just before JJ. The Englishman spun around and shot the would-be assassin.

The momentary distraction proved costly as Doyle regained some of his senses and scrambled to his feet. He lunged at Emily and pulled her close to him and back towards the railing, his arms wrapped around her neck, using her as a human shield.

Clyde had taken point going into the room with only JJ and Reid as back up, trusting Emily's judgment that Torre would clean up whatever problems were located elsewhere in the warehouse. When they had burst into the room the others were being held, he saw her going hand to hand with Doyle who had a good six inches and sixty pounds on her and beating the snot out of him. That was his girl.

Reid had veered off immediately towards the men who, after a glance, Clyde could see were bound to chairs though it looked like Hotchner was freeing himself. However, he saw Emily look towards the doorway and her warning shout. He spun around in time to see JJ fall down and the man behind her. He got a bullet off, but so did Clyde. Another glance showed the man was down and JJ unharmed but as he turned back around, the incident had distracted Emily enough to allow Doyle to get to his feet and grab her. Clyde's gun came up immediately, but he knew he had no chance of firing without hitting her.

Hotch sawed through the rest of his restraints and he lurched out of his chair, his body screaming in protest after being restricted for nearly two days. He saw Reid rushing towards him and collided with the younger man as he caught his stumbling body. Hotch swatted away the helping hands and instead wrenched Reid's gun from him. The BAU team leader seemed to find his legs and moved forward, gun raised and pointed at Ian Doyle who held Emily before him as a human shield.

"Let her go, Doyle," Hotch said steadily. Though his body ached and his heart was clenched with fear, his voice was steady as were the hands that held the gun pointed at the couple.

"Now, we know that's not going to happen, Agent Hotchner," Doyle replied smoothly. "And we know none of you will risk shooting, not with Emily so close to me." He jerked her up and a little closer to him. "Pity she's such a tall woman."

They couldn't get a clean shot of him and Emily knew it. "Clyde," she said through gritted teeth. "Remember your promise on the plane. No matter what, the mission is to save the others and take out Doyle. Do it."

Hotch risked a look at Easter, not liking the sound of this conversation the two had earlier. "What is she talking about?" Hotch growled.

Easter wouldn't answer him, but Emily heard the question. "The mission is the most important thing, Hotch. An agent is expendable. I'm expendable if it means stopping Doyle and saving you." She let out a little grunt of pain as Ian pulled her even tighter to him. "Just take the damn shot!"

Hotch knew JJ was standing uncertainly behind him and he heard footsteps coming towards the doorway. JJ spun around to look, ready to fire but relaxed when she saw Torre and three of his men. "Torre," she whispered to Hotch.

The team leader hadn't moved, his eyes still focused on Emily and Doyle. Did she really think of herself that way? That she was expendable and her life meant nothing. His eyes locked with hers and she nodded her head just a little. _Shoot through me and stop this maniac._

Never.

"Stand down!" Hotch barked out as he lowered his gun. Torre and his men hesitated but obeyed his command. By this time Reid had freed Rossi and Morgan and they too stumbled over to where their friends faced off with Doyle.

The one person who still had his gun pointed at the couple was Clyde Easter.

"Dammit, Easter," Hotch growled. "I ordered you to stand down."

"With all due respect, Agent Hotchner," Clyde drawled out. "I don't report to you."

Emily shifted her attention towards Clyde. "Remember your promise and the oath we took as agents. Whatever it takes. We are expendable."

"Dammit Easter," Hotch growled. "If you don't lower that gun right now, I'm going to shoot you myself. Now stand down!"

Clyde only barely heard Hotch as he stared into Emily's eyes. He knew what needed to be done. If Doyle got away with Emily as a hostage, she was good as dead and Doyle would be free again. He knew none of her BAU teammates would risk her life and Doyle was too smart to give them even the smallest opportunity to rescue her. So it was now or never. All he had to do was pull the trigger and given how close they were, the bullet would rip through Emily's body and into Doyle's and their mission would be complete and the world would be a safer place.

But at the cost of this woman's life. The life of a woman he loved.

"Sorry, my darling, but your Agent Hotchner can be very persuasive," Clyde called out as he lowered his gun.

Doyle chuckled mirthlessly in Emily's ear even as she closed her eyes in frustration. "You should feel happy, Emily. So many people don't want to be the one who pulled the trigger and killed you, even if it means taking care of me. Can't you just feel the love, my dear?"

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at Hotch. _Please._ She asked him. _Never._ Was his response back.

They weren't intentionally signing her death warrant, but that was what they were essentially doing. If Doyle made it out of here with her, he would kill her this time and then he would be free again to prey on the world. She could not let that happen, but knew the others could not take the necessary steps to prevent it. It was up to her.

She could feel Ian favoring the leg that had the damaged knee. Not only was she providing him with a shield, but he was also using her to help keep his balance. He was also leaning on the rusted railing that groaned ominously and seemed to shift every now and then, forcing Doyle to adjust his balance.

Her mind made up, she locked eyes with Hotch again. He frowned in puzzlement, not understanding what he saw there. He realized too late what she intended to do.

"Hey Ian," she croaked out, his grip around her neck tighter than ever. "Remember when I said either one of us or both of us would die here in this warehouse tonight?"

"Of course, but it looks like it'll be neither since we'll be taking a little trip, my Emily."

"No, it looks like it'll be both of us."

She braced her feet and suddenly shifted her weight back and against him, causing him to stumble as his weakened knee gave out. Their bodies leaned heavily against the rusted railing, their combined weight finally breaking it and they were suddenly, silently freefalling through the air.

The only sound was Hotch's scream.

"_**EMILY!"**_

* * *

**A/N 2: I am prepared for people to be upset that this ends in a cliffhanger and I may not update for a few days. Yes, the mean treatment at the BAU by Garcia and Reid that some felt was a little OC was really an act for the mole. If you go back and read those parts, I always mentioned that people were around whenever those BAU confrontations seemed to be happening. Emily got out of the handcuffs because she had a lock pick in her cufflinks (I know a bit James Bond-ish, but CM was the one who made her a spy, not me) which was why she kept moving her arms and shoulders in a funny way, making Hotch curious as to what she was doing. It was all Emily's plan because as Doyle said before**,_**"She always knew how to plan, that one. A clever little minx."**_** If you can, please review and provide some feedback! Believable? Did I tie up some loose ends? Did I surprise you? Did you enjoy the twists or even think they were twists? I'm curious!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I am not cruel. Here's the next part because I did find time today to post it. So, if you're a mother out there reading this story, consider it a Mother's Day gift! ;-) A few people asked/commented, and I agree that what was shown on the show could have indicated that Emily loved or at least had strong feelings for Doyle. However, in my eyes, what I also so wasn't so much a woman who was fighting her feelings, but a woman who had some feelings for this man, but it wasn't true love. Her lack of hesitation to stop him, how she played him up to the end (because yes, I think Emily had planned everything in Lauren and really the only thing that went wrong with the plan was Hotch and the others' lack of ability to pick up on the glaring clues Emily left for them), led me to think that yes, she felt something for Doyle, but it wasn't love-love. Please read and review and I hope people had a wonderful Mother's Day!**

It was a short drop. They heard the two bodies crashing below as they stumbled forward towards the edge, Hotch leading the way. They skidded to a stop and peered cautiously over.

Emily and Doyle had fallen about twenty feet down to another level that was wider than the one they had been on. Discarded cardboard boxes and what looked to be old mattresses had broken their fall. They owed their lack of broken necks and skull fractures to homeless tenants who squatted in the warehouse in previous years and had left their old bedding.

"Emily!" Hotch called out again.

By the time they reached the edge, Doyle was already struggling to his feet, his body looming over Emily's still one, one hand using a piece of the metal railing that had buckled under their combined weight as leverage help him up. Hotch raised his gun and then hesitated. Doyle twisted his head around and looked up, his eyes locking with Hotch's dark ones. A crooked smile crossed the Irishman's face when he saw Hotch hesitate. They were in essentially the same position they had been before. With Doyle hovering above Emily, they could still not fire at him without risking the bullet going through him and striking her.

Doyle continued to stare at Hotchner and called out tauntingly in his Irish lilt. "I guess Emily was right, Agent Hotchner. I guess we both die here tonight!" He turned back to her and began to raise the metal bar in his hand to drive it down into her body.

"No!" Hotch screamed as he took aim and prayed that his bullet would not go through Doyle and strike Emily. His finger began to squeeze the trigger when he saw Doyle pause and convulse. The Irishman let out a strangled cry and then began to shift his body, falling to the side and twisting so he faced towards the crowd on the ledge above.

As he moved, they could see Emily Prentiss propping herself up with one arm, her other arm upraised, still in that position after she had driven a rusty piece of metal into Ian Doyle's stomach.

_Clyde Easter stared at him and said, "There's no catching that man. He'll escape as easily from your prison as he did North Korea and when he does, then, all Hell will break loose. If you want to stop that man, you'll have to put a bullet between his eyes yourself. Can you do that? Can you break your oath, Agent Hotchner?"_

"_No."_

Doyle twisted away from Emily and gave Hotch the chance he needed. Without a moment's hesitation, he aimed and fired one bullet. It pierced the middle of Doyle's forehead in one round symmetrical hole, but exited the back of his head in a spray of blood, brain matter and bone.

"_Can you take one then? You swear your team will save her."_

"_Yes."_

Hotch lowered his gun. Some oaths took precedence over others.

Doyle fell over backwards next to Emily, about five feet between them. His head lolled over sideways until his sightless eyes faced her. Emily, exhausted and slowly being overcome by the accumulation of her injuries fell back onto her own back after driving the rusted piece of metal railing into Doyle's body. Her head turned to the side until she was looking into Doyle's sightless eyes. She watched as the light faded out of them and what was once Ian Doyle was reduced to a mass of broken flesh and bone.

"Goodbye, Ian," she whispered. "It's finally over."

"Emily!" Hotch bellowed. "Hang on, we're coming to you!"

"Hotch!" Morgan barked out. "Ladder!"

Derek pointed to a dark corner where the shadows had hidden a rickety ladder that led down to the level below. Slipping the gun into his waistband, Hotch stumbled over to the ladder and scurried down it, ignoring the ominous creaks and groans it made. He vaguely heard Torre barking commands asking for the status of the warehouse. Hearing his team report that it was secure he began to order medical teams to meet them on the level below.

Hotch skirted Doyle's body and the blood, bone and brain matter littering the floor and dropped down next to Emily, blocking out her view of Doyle's body. He lowered his face until it was next to hers and stared anxiously into her eyes.

"Emily?" he called out softly. One trembling hand reached out to brush the hair from her face. "Sweetheart?" He did not notice the term of endearment slipping out.

"It's over," she whispered. "It's finally over."

"Yeah, it's over, Emily. You're safe now."

"I can stop," she sighed and let her eyes closed. "I can stop and let go…" her weary voice began to fade and Hotch felt panic seize him.

"Emily? Emily! Dammit, stay with me, Prentiss! Open your eyes!"

She wasn't responding and he noticed her breathing was becoming shallower, taking on a strange rattling sound.

"Emily! Where the Hell are those medics?" Hotch screamed out.

"Hotch! Emily!" Reid threw himself down on the other side of Emily's body. "They're coming." His voice trailed off as he saw Emily's half open shirt reveal the ugly clover brand on her chest. Spencer took a shaky breath and tried to control the overwhelmingly blinding hatred he felt for Ian Doyle. It didn't matter, he told himself. Doyle was dead and right now they needed to concentrate on Emily. From the panic in Hotch's voice and his continual shouts for her to open her eyes, hit him, curse him, he knew that what Emily needed now was his focus on her, and not on his hatred for a dead man. Spencer picked up her hand and held it between his own.

"Stay with me, Prentiss!" Hotch continued to yell. He felt himself transported back to Boston two years earlier. That same overwhelming feeling of helplessness he felt them came rushing back to him and threatened to undo him completely. "Dammit, I didn't sit strapped to a chair for two days for you to check out on me! I still need to give you Hell for playing dead! I need you back at the BAU hording all the Splenda from the break room! I need you to make a joke and ease the tension on a case! I need you to give Morgan Hell about his dating. I need you around so Rossi isn't only butting into my life! I need to see your smile at least once a day. I need to hear your laugh again. Jack needs you to be his friend who can listen to him for hours talking about monkeys and dinosaurs. He needs you to take him to the Smithsonian's dinosaur display for the hundredth time and act like it's the first time. I need you to just look at me with those brown eyes in a middle of a case and remind me that we're all still human and there's something good in this life when there's always so much darkness around us." His voice had become ragged and halting, words he needed to get out, choking in his throat as they jostled for position to be released. Hotch felt his eyes fill as tears he had stored within him for two years fought to be freed. "I need you, Emily. I need you to keep fighting to stay with us. With me."

Reid was the only one to hear this impassioned speech from Hotch, the others having tried to find a safer way down to the lower level than the dangerous ladder that only Hotch and Reid had risked. But if he was surprised to hear his stoic leader beg Emily to stay with him, he did not show it. Spencer only reached out a hand to grasp Hotch's shoulder and simply said, "We all need you, Emily. Please, please, stay with us."

A commotion at the other end of the platform caught Reid's attention and he looked up to see Clyde Easter and Dan Torre leading the paramedics towards them. "Over here!" Reid called out, waving his hand frantically, though still clasping Emily's hand with his other one.

Torre glanced around, just to make certain there were no dangers lurking around and moved off to the side, to stand guard. Easter took a glance at Emily, but also moved off to the side to give the paramedics room to work. Reid dropped Emily's hand and shifted away to allow a paramedic to take his place, but Hotch did not budge.

Reid saw two paramedics stop to examine Doyle to see if they could help him and that rage that had threatened to consume the young man earlier came roaring back.

"He's gone. There's no helping him," Reid told them flatly.

"We have to check-," the female paramedic began.

"No."

"Regulations tell us-"

"I said no!" Reid barked at her. "That man is dead and thank God he is! He is responsible for this!" He stabbed a finger where an obviously gravely hurt Emily was being tended to with a distraught and battered Hotch by her side. "That…_thing_ doesn't deserve help in life or death! Now help her or get the Hell out of here!"

The woman flushed and was about to open her mouth when her partner put a beefy hand on her shoulder. "Let it go, Nell. He's a goner. We've got two people who could truly use our help."

She nodded, skirting around Reid as she went to help the other paramedics with Emily and Hotch.

"Pulse is weak. Possible collapsed lung on the left side. We need to strap her to the board and get her to hospital pronto. Sir, please step aside." The paramedic tending Emily directed this last sentence towards Hotch.

The BAU team leader did not move, still stroking Emily's hair. It took Reid gently tugging him away and murmuring, "Let them help her, Hotch" to get him to shift over enough for the paramedics to strap her to a stability board and lift her up to a waiting stretcher. When she was secured, Hotch was immediately back to her side and along with Reid on the other side and the paramedics formed an odd looking escort to the rapidly fading Emily Prentiss as she was wheeled out.

Major Torre took point, leading the way and Clyde Easter brought up the rear. Soon, only the body of Ian Doyle was left in the empty room as the living stormed out into the cold, Baltimore night.

**A/N 2: I am still of the belief that Hotch, Doyle and Easter all are alike in certain ways. All three are ultimate alphas, intelligent, ruthless, but having their own code that live by. In my mind, what makes them throw that code out the window, is Emily. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm thrilled that so many people from different countries are reading and some of you are enjoying this story. Yes, the "Doyle" part of this saga is "resolved". Or is it? Honestly, nothing is ever easy, is it? Please enjoy and read and review.**

When she saw JJ's bright blonde hair leading Rossi and Morgan out, Penelope leapt out of the surveillance van she had been ordered to stay in while Torre's team and the others infiltrated the warehouse. Helped along by two more of Torre's men, JJ led Rossi and Morgan to one of the waiting ambulances, ignoring their protests and saying how they needed to be back in there with Emily.

"Hotch and Reid are with her," JJ told them. "You guys need to be checked out."

They had deep lacerations and bruises on their wrists and ankles from the plastic ties they had tried to get out of, but aside from a few additional bruises Morgan had from the initial kidnapping, they were in good shape.

"Rossi! Derek!" Penelope squealed as she rushed over to them. She threw herself into Morgan's arms and he hugged her back tightly. "You guys are okay!"

"We're fine, Baby Girl," Morgan replied, happily breathing in her familiar Garcia scent.

"Hotch? Emily?" Penelope asked after she hugged Rossi.

Dave pursed his lips and said gently. "Emily's hurt pretty badly and Hotch is with her." When he saw Garcia pale, he patted her hand reassuringly. "The paramedics are in there now."

Garcia nodded, having seen them rush into the building several minutes earlier. Her eyes filled with tears. "It's my fault. Emily said she could only hold him off for an hour and we took way too long because I lost the signal."

"Signal? Garcia, what are you talking about?" Morgan asked.

JJ was the one who answered. "It was Emily's plan. Doyle would take her and we would follow a tracker she had in one of her shirt cufflinks."

"Only we lost the signal and it took us hours to find it again," Garcia supplied. Tears filled her eyes. "If only we were faster. Better."

"Hey, it's okay. You found us in time," Rossi consoled her, but he mentally shook his head. Emily definitely was a planner and had remained a step or two ahead of Doyle and everyone else this entire time. A flurry of activity at the door of the warehouse cut off any other discussion and they all turned to see what was happening.

They saw Torre jogging out leading the way for the paramedics and Hotch and Reid as they ran alongside the wheeled stretcher.

"Emily!" Garcia called out as she hurried forward. The others followed her and Morgan caught her arm in time to pull her out of the path of the paramedics. They watched as Emily whizzed by them, pale and still. Rossi reached out to stop Reid.

"How is she?"

Reid sighed as he watched Hotch and Emily continue on with out him. "Collapsed lung possibly. They're worried there's some internal bleeding too. She-, she wasn't responding to us."

They grew silent and watched as Torre pulled open the back doors of an ambulance and then stepped aside as the paramedics loaded Emily on board. Without missing a beat, Hotch climbed up after her as did one of the other paramedics while another raced to the driver's seat. Torre barked out orders to two of his men to escort the ambulance to the hospital before he closed the doors and pounded its side, letting the driver know the back was secured. He turned to watch the ambulance race off into the night with four of his men in two separate cars providing a noisy, flashing light escort.

Torre jogged over to where the rest of the BAU team was standing.

"I've got a man ready to drive you to the hospital unless you want an ambulance to take you," Torre told Rossi. "I can handle the wrap up here."

Rossi nodded. "Thanks, Dan. For everything." He shook hands with the other man.

"No thanks necessary. Give Agent Prentiss my best. She's a helluva an agent and me and my team are all pulling for her." Torre nodded at the others and motioned to yet another one of his team who led the BAU agents and Easter over to a dark colored sedan. They piled in and took off for the hospital.

* * *

He didn't want to leave her, but he had no choice. As Emily was wheeled into the operating room, Hotch was led to another examine room in the ER where his much more minor wounds were tended to. Dehydration was the most serious issue. He had shallow cuts on his wrists and ankles and the small wound to his side that Doyle had made only required some cleaning and a bandage.

Hotch closed his eyes in pain as he heard the doctor tell him reassuringly that he had only very minor wounds that would heal in a few days. The man didn't know that the reason for that was because Emily Prentiss had deliberately taken the burnt of the injuries to protect him and the others. He could see it happening again, all the blows Emily took, the fight she had with Doyle and then the final fall as she tried to end this entire nightmare for all of them.

The doctor was still speaking to him, drawing him back from his memories. He ordered Hotch to replenish his fluids and get some food, but other than rest and making sure he kept his cuts clean, there was little else he needed to do and he was sent out into the waiting room.

He was directed to the sixth floor and a small waiting area there. When he arrived, he saw the rest of his team and medical personnel, but no one else. He glanced curiously around and then went over to where everyone sat.

"Emily?" he asked immediately.

JJ stood up and walked over to him. "Still in surgery. How are you doing?" She looked anxiously at him.

"I'm fine."

"What did the doctor say?"

Hotch sighed, not wanting to talk about himself, but knowing the rest of the team wouldn't let it go. "Just need to eat and drink something and keep my wounds clean."

JJ nodded and went over to a paper bag sitting on the coffee table. She pulled out a sports drink and handed him a chicken salad in a whole wheat wrap. Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. "They gave the same instructions to Morgan and Rossi so since we were waiting, I ran out and got some food. I think it's going to be a long night."

"Sir," Penelope said quietly. She picked up his go bag. "We made sure to grab your bag and Derek and Rossi's before we left the BAU. Uh, we figured you guys might want a change of clothes."

Hotch could see that Rossi and Morgan had already changed. The older man pointed down the hall. "Second room on the left. It's an empty patient room. The nurse said we can use the shower and change in there."

"Where is everyone? The other patients and their families and friends?" Hotch asked. "All I see are us and medical personnel."

"They cleared off this floor for us," JJ replied. "Security and all."

Hotch raised his eyebrow. "They?"

"The Agency. They didn't want anyone near Emily when she's brought up here after surgery." JJ did not use the word 'if'.

Hotch merely nodded and then picked up his go bag and the drink. He went to the room Rossi had pointed out earlier. After downing half of the sports drink, he went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Fatigue was etched on every feature and the dark circle and bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever. The longer he stared at his reflection, the more his fatigue was slowly being replaced by anger. Anger that yet again he was helpless and sitting in a waiting room…waiting, powerless. His hands began to curl into fists as his eyes darkened.

"Doyle," he spat out in a low, venomous voice. "You got off easy, you bastard."

The urge to smash his reflection nearly overwhelmed him. His hands began to rise as he replayed the events of the last two days over his mind like a film, the soundtrack provided by Doyle's poisonous whispers.

"_You don't get a say in anything, Hotchner! None of you can even appreciate or know a woman like Emily. Do you know what her skin feels like? How she tastes? The soft sounds she makes when you satisfy her? The smell of her skin in the morning? How she feels in your arms after you've made love? What do you know of her, Agent Hotchner? Nothing."_

He forced himself to grip the edge of the sink, trying not to break the mirror with his hands. He saw his face transform from weary to dark and angry. For two days he had listened to Doyle's taunts and ravings.

"_Ahh, poor Lau-, Emily. She would be better off with me, I think. I always protected her, loved her. When we're finished here, I think I will take my beautiful Lauren, oh, excuse me, Emily, find my son and live out our days in blissful harmony. Have another child. Ahh, that would be happiness to see her heavy with my child."_

Hotch was breathing heavily now as he tried to gain some semblance of control. His arms shook as he gripped the sink tightly.

"_Beautiful, beautiful, Emily. The type of woman who, once you have her, she gets into your blood and you can never get her out. You never want to. But this, it says she's mine. Aren't you, darling?"_

He was either going to smash the mirror or rip the sink out of the wall. Hotch's breath was coming out in harsh gasps that filled the cold, sterile bathroom, echoing off the tile. The anger threatened to consume him and push him to the brink of exploding when suddenly he remembered how Emily had looked when Doyle had said those words and exposed his brand on her breast to him and the other men.

Ashamed. Embarrassed. Vulnerable.

Hotch felt himself deflate, the anger draining away from him to be replaced by the ache of imagining how Emily felt in that moment. His heart had gone out to her then as it did now and like she had done before, she brought him back to Earth, centering him, and pushing away that dark anger that sometimes could be all consuming.

He sighed, in control of his emotions again. He looked in the mirror and did not see the dark anger, but just the weariness. While he longed for a shower, knew he couldn't after he had just been bandaged. He settled for cleaning himself up as best he could in the sink and with some dampened towels. With a fresh change of clothes, he felt better and he finished off the rest of his drink before going back out into the waiting room.

Without even asking, after he sat down, JJ pushed the chicken wrap towards him again and handed him another sports drink. Knowing it would be a long night and he needed to replenish his depleted strength, Hotch simply nodded a thanks and started on his meal though he didn't really feel that hungry.

They were quiet for about a half hour, giving Hotch a chance to eat and rest, but finally Clyde Easter asked them a question. Hotch tensed when he heard the overly polite tone in the Englishman's voice.

"Pardon me, gentlemen, but I wonder if you could satisfy my curiosity. Why is it that you all have such minor wounds after being with Doyle for nearly two days, yet Emily looked like she had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson when she was only his captive a few short hours?"

Hotch exchanged looks with Rossi and Morgan. They had caught the accusatory and derisive tone in Easter's voice and each man, Hotchner moreso than the other two, bristled at the Englishman's unspoken accusation.

What kind of men are you to allow a woman to be beaten like that?

"Doyle was about to kill me," Hotch replied evenly, truthfully. "Emily distracted him. Purposely made him focus his rage on her."

He saw Reid's eyes widen and then he shuddered in remembrance of what had happened in Colorado. "Emily," Reid whispered brokenly. "She did it before. She did it for me in Colorado. Took a beating when Cyrus threatened to kill me."

"I can take it," Rossi murmured. "She said those same words back in Colorado too."

"Her code for us not to interfere and let it happen to her. Let some bastard continue to beat her," Derek added. "God, I never want to hear those words come from Emily's mouth ever again."

Easter's eyes had narrowed. "Doyle intended to kill you outright?" he queried Hotch. "Why? That doesn't make much sense."

Rossi cleared his throat, drawing the attention away from a slowly simmering Hotch. While he knew the younger man had seemed to regain some of the balance he had lost over the last two years, Hotch was still in a fragile state. The events of the past forty-eight hours had taken its toll on their leader and with Emily's condition still unknown and perilous, the last thing he needed was Clyde Easter to poke around.

"It was part of Doyle's plan to break Emily," Rossi interceded. "He had planned to kill us immediately in front of her."

"Really?" Easter's voice dripped with disbelief. "And starting with Agent Hotchner? Interesting. Why is that do you think?"

"If you have something to say to me, Easter," Hotch snarled as he stood up abruptly. "Just spit it out." He moved towards the other man who also came towards him until they were just two feet apart, glaring at each other.

"Ian Doyle was a jealous bastard," Clyde spat out in clipped tones. "Possessive. Suspicious. If he just believed someone else had an interest in Emily or some type of relationship, he would retaliate. So tell me, Agent Hotchner, did you do anything to set off Doyle and required Emily to rescue your sorry arse by taking a beating?"

Hotch was about to take another step towards Easter, escalating the confrontation when suddenly Rossi was between the two men, his back towards Hotch and facing Easter.

In a tone that was soft, but clearly indicated that he was not going to stand for anything but the two men separating and going to opposite ends of the room, Dave said to the Englishman, "Doyle was already too far gone to know what he was thinking. The reason he focused in on Hotch was because Hotch refused to rise to any of Doyle's bait. He continuously reminded that madman that her name was Emily and that Doyle had no real relationship with her. He couldn't break Hotch so he was going to kill him. As much as I hate Emily literally throwing herself in front of the bus to save us, I'm grateful because I know I'm alive because of her sacrifice. But I will carry the guilt of knowing she did make the sacrifice for me. As will Morgan and as will Hotch. Now, we're all here because we're worried and scared and all we want is Emily alive and well and back with us. So if you feel the need to beat your chest and claim yourself the man better suited to protecting Emily, be my guest, but you don't do it here. Here it's about Emily, not about some misplaced macho pride or laying blame on someone failing to protect her, because I'm pretty sure everyone in this room failed Emily in one way or another. Now, you, and you too," Rossi threw over his shoulder at Hotch who was still fairly vibrating with anger. "sit down and behave yourselves, or I'll personally kick both your asses out of here."

Rossi glared at the two men and waited, as did the rest of the room. Finally, Easter turned and went back to the corner by the window he had staked out for himself. Rossi turned to look at Hotch who glared back at him. The older man simply raised an eyebrow. Hotch let out an irritated breath and sat back down in his original seat, his arms crossed over his chest.

Rossi nodded and took his seat next to Reid. The rest of the room had watched the drama unfold with varying emotions. Morgan shot Rossi a look that said, _You know a lot more happened in that warehouse._ Rossi shook his head at the other man, a small movement that Easter's sharp eyes didn't miss. The Englishman's lips pressed into a grim line, his suspicions about Hotchner's feelings for Emily confirmed.

Garcia and Reid had merely watched the entire event with shocked and surprised eyes, not sure what to make of it, but happy that Rossi had managed to defuse the situation. Things were already difficult now with the waiting and the horrific déjà vu feeling that transported them back to Boston two years earlier. The last thing they wanted to see was their team leader, a man they leaned and relied on heavily, suddenly engaged in a brawl.

JJ gazed at Hotch thoughtfully, her conversation with Easter several hours earlier fresh in her mind. She wasn't a profiler, but hang around them long enough and you pick up a few skills. Plus JJ was a naturally observant woman who had an instinctual feel for people, especially those she cared about. She watched Hotch as he sat tensely in his chair, trying to relax the hands that would ball into fists every now and then. She saw worry. She saw fear. But she also saw anger. Helplessness. Despair. When Easter was goading Hotch earlier, she also saw something else, shame, shame that he had failed Emily. As a friend, that would be a natural feeling. She herself felt a measure of shame and she saw that emotion on Rossi and Morgan's faces. But it was deeper, more pronounced in Hotch's eyes and she had to look into his eyes. Hotchner was a master of the expressionless look, but you could sometimes catch a glimpse of what he was truly feeling by looking in his eyes. Hotch had felt extreme shame for failing Emily.

JJ glanced over at Clyde and saw him watching Morgan and Rossi. A grim, triumphant look appeared on the Englishman's face, as though he was just proven right about something. She turned her head quickly to look at her two teammates and saw them exchange a look before Morgan stood up announcing he was getting some coffee and if anyone else wanted some. Reid and Garcia, uncomfortable and uncertain in the strained atmosphere of the room, volunteered to go with him and the trio shuffled off.

The room settled into silence again. The three men left, fell into their own little worlds as they sat and waited. JJ looked around her once more before closing her eyes and sighing. Emily's "death" had had serious ramifications on the lives of everyone on this team and her return seemed to have an equally large impact. She wasn't sure if Hotch himself realized it or not, but JJ believed Easter's earlier claims.

Aaron Hotchner definitely had strong feelings for Emily Prentiss. He may even be in love with her.

* * *

The hours dragged by and no amount of coffee, wrap sandwiches and cookies seemed to help. Several times a nurse came by and kindly suggested they take advantage of the beds in an empty room to get some sleep. She usually addressed this suggestion to Hotch who looked to be in the worst shape, but they always declined. Somehow, being alone and waiting was much worse than waiting as a group.

The dawn had just turned the skies a pearly pink, promising a beautiful fall day when an exhausted man in his sixties, dressed in green scrubs came into the waiting room.

"Emily Prentiss?" he asked inquiringly, looking at the assembled group. He nodded as they stood up en masse. Of course they were for Emily Prentiss. She was the only patient they were allowing on this floor.

"How is she?" Hotch demanded as he stepped forwards towards the man.

The doctor blinked at Hotch's intensity and fought the urge to take a step back. Physically intimidating already, when you added the force of the man's presence, it could be overwhelming. The doctor cleared his throat. "I'm Dr. Blake and Ms. Prentiss is being settled in her room. There was some internal bleeding we were able to stop and fortunately she did not suffer a collapsed lung which was what the paramedics had feared. However, she does have two broken ribs, a concussion and some deep bruising. She should make a full recovery though it'll take a few weeks. I think she should be ready to move in two days."

"Move?" Hotch asked sharply, his relief that Emily would be okay vanishing when he heard about the move. "Why is she moving? You think she should be released that soon?"

"Released? No, she should be in the hospital a few more days after the move."

"Why is she being moved?" Hotch asked again. "Who authorized that?"

Dr. Blake blinked at them. "Why, a Mr. Jones did. A Robert Jones."

Hotch searched his memory. It was a common name but something niggled at his brain telling him that name was associated in an important way to Emily. He thought he had it when he remembered that a Robert Jones was technically the number three man at the CIA. In truth, Robert Jones ran that agency, not the CIA director like the public believed. Jones was in charge of covert operations and would have been the man who dropped Emily into the whole Doyle mess.

In the back of his mind he knew there was something else he was missing, but having remembered Jones' CIA connection and learning he was ordering Emily to be moved to God knows where superceded his need to investigate that missing piece. Hotch's mouth thinned into an angry line and he snapped out.

"What room?"

"Room 601, it's down the hall and take a left," Dr. Blake replied. "She's likely there now, but she's probably not awake-"

Hotch ignored him as he strode swiftly in the direction indicated. The rest of the group trailed after him, confused by the conversation their leader had just had and his subsequent angry expression.

"Hotch?" Rossi ventured.

"Jones," Hotch spat out when he spotted a tall, distinguished looking man in his sixties talking to two guards outside of room 601.

The man turned to look at the small group who had suddenly appeared. The BAU team saw a handsome man with gray hair combed back from his still youthful face. His dark gray suit was perfectly tailored and expensive looking. Hazel eyes regarded them thoughtfully. He was tall, as tall as Hotch and though age likely made him a little wider than when he was younger, they could see he was still in good shape.

Hotch strode up to him immediately. "I demand to know why you're having Agent Prentiss transferred from this hospital before she's ready to be discharged."

Robert Jones raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at Hotch a moment before answering. "I wasn't aware she was still 'Agent' Prentiss," the man drawled out. "Frankly, I don't see how any of this is your concern as Emily left the BAU two years ago."

Hotch's face flushed with anger, his nerves and the control he had over his temper fraying ever so much more. Before he could speak another voice rang out.

"They're her friends and are worried about her. They also helped save her life. I think that gives them the right to ask a few questions."

They looked over at the other end of the hallway when a tall, brunette woman who looked so much like Emily sailed towards them.

Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss.

**A/N 2: I'm close to putting up another story soon and it'll be a crossover with NCIS. A very Emily-focused story that I think has some interesting potential. It'll be separate from this universe I've created in **_**Reckoning**_**, but I hope to try to do both stories simultaneously since I believe **_**Reckoning**_** will likely be a multi-story arc.**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Okay, so I noticed a few folks had figured out one of the little paths I have been taking this story down, but I don't think you know where that path will lead. At least I hope you haven't figured it out! ;-) And while a large part of me wanted Paget Brewster's pilot to be picked up so she could just say, "In your face, CBS!" another part of me squealed in hope that CBS pulls their collective heads out of dark places and picks up the option on her contract (with a couple of additional years added to it), stops monkeying around with Thomas Gibson and gets him re-signed and gets rid of Seaver. That way we have our old team back and maybe they'll pick up on some of those Hotch/Prentiss threads they were hinting at in seasons past. As a side note, I was watching "Conflicted" this weekend and there's this one hilarious shot at the end where they've all descended down into the lobby of the hotel and everyone breaks off to find the unsub and Hotch and Emily are left standing in the lobby looking around and they are posed exactly in the same way, Emily behind him, hands on their guns, looking off to the side. They also did this same pose earlier in the episode. I have no idea if that was simply accidental or planned, but I like to think of it as how in tune these two are (and it's also one of the rare episodes he refers to her as "Emily"). And one more thing, I'm glad folks are enjoying my Rossi. Seriously, I have no idea where that's coming from because while I like all the characters, Rossi isn't one of my favorites. Yet he's taken over a large part of this story because I do think he's a steadying influence on the team and with Emily "gone", he's taken up that role even more. But I hadn't planned on him being so prominent. It's just happened. Anyway, enjoy and drop a review if you would.**

_Emily stared into Aaron Hotchner's eyes, willing him to end this standoff. She saw stubborn refusal in those dark depths and knew what she had to do. She next felt herself falling through the air and then intense pain as she crashed through some empty cardboard boxes and landed partly on a rotting mattress. The wind was knocked out of her lungs and she thought she felt a rib snap. Stunned, she could only lie there as she heard Doyle struggle to his feet._

_Vaguely, she heard voices and something told her to move now. Her hand curled around a piece of rusty metal and acting on instinct alone, she thrust it upwards, the pointed end driving into human flesh._

_A loud sound and she saw blue lifeless eyes staring back at her. They were then suddenly replaced by panicked dark ones and she heard a voice calling her name, demanding she stay with him._

_Fragments of words spoken to her by a voice seemed to pierce the darkness she was swimming in. Jack. Need. Me. Here. She didn't understand it, but knew that she had to follow the voice. But the darkness was too strong and it overwhelmed her. She was next aware of being in a moving vehicle, feeling the sway as they took corners rapidly. She felt warmth and strength in one hand and realized it was because someone was holding it. A breeze, a rush of wind and the hand slipped from her grasp as she fell into the black again._

* * *

The delicate features, the dark hair, the long, lean body, so many things about the Ambassador reminded Hotch of Emily and he almost felt a physical pain when he recognized it. He pushed the feelings roughly aside as she came up to him and Jones and glared at the latter.

"Elizabeth," the other man greeted her with a slight nod.

"Don't Elizabeth me," she snapped. "I want to see my daughter now and if they want to see her too, no one," she gave him a pointed look, "Is going to stop them."

She turned on her heel and started towards the door of room 601. The two guards moved to block her path, but with a shake of his head, Jones indicated to them to let her pass.

Ambassador Prentiss pushed open the door and stepped inside the dimly lit room. A nurse was adjusting a monitor and looked up in surprise as far too many people entered the room. Jones and Hotch had followed right on the Ambassador's heels. While the others knew they shouldn't be in Emily's room, they all felt the need to at least see her to reassure themselves that she was alive. After all, it was two years ago when they weren't allowed to see her one last time only to be told she was dead as she was spirited off to places unknown.

The nurse frowned at them. "Really," she whispered, "There are far too many people in here. She needs her rest!"

"I'm her mother," Elizabeth explained. "We'll only be a moment, but we all just needed to see for ourselves." She took a deep shuddering breath, her words coming out in halting phrases. "We have to see her, to know. We'll only be a minute."

The nurse frowned, her lips thinning into a single line, but she nodded once. "Just five minutes, and not a second more." She left the room.

Elizabeth took one chair and much to Hotch's annoyance, Jones took the other one on the opposite side of the bed. He settled for standing at the foot of Emily's bed as the others lined themselves up along the wall where they could see Emily, but were further away from her, in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

The Ambassador gasped in dismay when she saw the extent of the bruising on Emily's face. She reached out a tentative hand to brush her daughter's hair. "Oh my poor baby," she murmured. "What did that man do to you?"

"She's fine, Elizabeth. The doctor said she'll make a full recovery," Jones replied in a low voice. He placed one hand over Emily's, earning a glare from her mother and a sharp look from Hotch.

"This is your fault!" the Ambassador hissed out. "How could you do this to her? How could you send her into such a dangerous situation? How can you do that to someone you love?"

Hotch and the others watched this interaction with confusion. It was obvious that Emily was important to Jones, beyond just being a valuable agent. However, it didn't feel like a typical lover's relationship. That missing piece niggled at the back of Hotch's mind again but he got distracted when Emily began to stir.

They all unconsciously leaned forward, trying to see if she would wake up and talk to them. They waited with bated breath as her eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. Hotch saw a moment's confusion and then panic. Emily jerked her hand from Jones' and flung it underneath her pillow, gasping in pain as she aggravated one of her many injuries.

Both Jones and Emily's mother tried to calm her immediately.

"Emily! It's okay! You're safe!"

"Stop it, Emily, you'll hurt yourself!"

Hotch realized she was searching for a weapon. For two years Emily Prentiss had had to sleep with one eye open and always ready to protect herself. Waking up from surgery, she was obviously confused. She continued to move about in an agitated state until Hotch leaned forward and gently grasped both of her feet with his hands. He saw her stare at him wildly and he leaned forward until his face was in the light.

"Emily," he said gently. "You're safe now. You're with us. You don't have to be scared."

She stared at him with a frown as she tried to focus in on his face. He gently squeezed her feet in a reassuring manner. "H-Hotch?" she whispered in confusion.

He nodded and gave her a slight smile. "Yeah, it's me. And you're in the hospital, but you're going to be okay. It's over, Emily. It's finally over."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. It was Elizabeth's hand brushing back some hair that caused her to shift her gaze from Hotch. "Mother?"

"Hey, Ems," Elizabeth whispered. "You're going to be fine."

"That's right, Sweetie Bird," Jones rumbled out, capturing her hand again and squeezing it. Hotch glared over at the man in surprise when he heard the affectionate nickname. "Doctors say you're going to be good as new in a few weeks."

It clicked for Hotch a split second before Emily responded. That niggling memory in the back of his brain that he had pushed aside suddenly crystallized into a clear, unmistakable one.

"Daddy?" Emily whispered.

* * *

**A/N 2: So yes, a few of you figured out Jones is Emily's father and if I were filming this and had my casting choice, Jones would be played by Bruce Boxleitner because how can you **_**NOT**_** have Scarecrow & Mrs. King reunited? And you know Lee Stetson and Amanda King would likely produce a kick ass, awesomely geeky at times, gorgeous kid like Emily.**

**For those asking about the NCIS/CM crossover I mentioned…it's more of an Emily story set directly after "Demonology" and she's not exactly in a Hotch-friendly frame of mind. There'll be hints of potential Hotch/Prentiss, but it's more about Emily and Gibbs becoming friends and growing closer, though not really in the "romantic" sense. I'm not going for Prentiss/Gibbs. The easiest way to explain is that I think Emily needs some more friends and given what we know of her background with the Doyle saga, I think Team Gibbs would have less issues and be more understanding about her secrets because of their own individual histories (Gibbs and Diva especially because both have done undercover work in the past and for heaven's sakes, Gibbs was a sniper and Diva a Mossad agent, neither one are going to look askance at Emily for her work), than Team Hotch would. And yes, I would see this crossover as a multi-story arc (yeah, I don't know where I'll find the time to write all this stuff either), but much shorter than this "Reckoning" arc.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: It won't be in this part, but I will go into the complicated Prentiss family life a bit more. I don't want to say you're supposed to like Emily's father, but he's not an out right villain. Things are much more complicated than simple good and bad. Also, for those interested, my CM/NCIS crossover is up right now in the crossover story section. It's called "A Rose By Any Other Name". That is technically my first NCIS story too, so bare with me on that one as I tried to get the characters down. Hope you enjoy and please leave a review if you can. I do like reading people's thoughts and feedback.**

Leave it to Penelope Garcia to let out a melodramatic gasp of surprise, but she was far from the only one who was shocked at Emily's name for the CIA director. The rest of the BAU team stared in stunned silence, looking at this man who had willingly put his own child into extreme danger chasing after Ian Doyle. Their surprise was quickly eclipsed by fury as they watched him smile as Emily lay injured in her hospital bed. What type of man knowingly allowed this to happen to his daughter?

Hotch felt that dark anger come roaring back into him, but this time directed at the man who was seated next to Emily's bed. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around Emily's feet causing her to flick a glance his way. She looked at him, confused, feeling the tension in his hands. Hotch caught the look and he relaxed his hold and tipped the corners of his mouth up slightly, reassuring her. Once again, she brought him back from that dark place he found himself in danger of slipping into with more frequency. It still hovered on the edges of his soul, ready to fill him at any moment, but somehow, in some way, Emily always seemed to be there to pull him back. He was not going to let her see it.

"I'm right here, Sweetie Bird," Jones said quietly as he patted her hand. "It's over, honey. Doyle's gone and he'll never hurt you again. You did good, Ems."

Hotch looked at the older man with an incredulous expression, still trying to process the fact that this man, Emily's father, used her to bring down Doyle. Had her go undercover, fake her death, go on the run for two years and all he could say now was, "good job"?

His eyes shifted over to her mother. He knew Emily and the Ambassador have had their problems in the past. The few vague things she had said about her parents led him to believe she blamed her mother for her parents' divorce, but there have never been any indications that Emily thought her mother didn't love her. The look on Elizabeth Prentiss' face bore this out. Anger and what could only be described as hatred was on display on each of the Ambassador's delicate features as she stared at Jones.

"Not over," Emily was whispering wearily. "Killed the head, but body still lives. Someone-, someone else had to be in charge all those years Doyle was locked away."

Jones was nodding. "We know, honey, but you don't have to worry about that now. You just get better and then we can talk about it later."

Hotch heard Elizabeth suck in her breath, but she quickly schooled her features so she was smiling at Emily.

"That's right, Ems," she said as her daughter turned to look at her. "The only thing you need to concentrate on is getting better."

Emily's eyes were drooping as sleep and exhaustion tried to claim her, but she turned to look at the man standing at the foot of her bed, his hands still gently grasping her feet, providing a comforting and reassuring warmth. "You okay? Rossi? Morgan?"

"Thanks to you, we're all fine," Hotch said quietly as he gently squeezed her feet again.

"And in the op, no one else got hurt? Reid? JJ? Clyde?"

"No," Hotch said quietly. "We're all okay." He glanced over his shoulder at Easter and mouthed two words, "Torre's team?" Clyde simply did a thumbs up, letting him know that no one in the rescue team had been seriously hurt. Hotch turned back to Emily. "And Torre's team made it out okay too."

She seemed satisfied, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Good," she sighed. "Sleepy."

"Then you should sleep," Hotch said softly, a touch of amusement in his voice. Unconsciously, he began to gently rub her feet.

They were all silent as Emily closed her eyes and her breathing evened out. Elizabeth continued to stroke her hair and Jones held his daughter's hand. Hotch gentle massage of Emily's feet continued through the thin sheets and blankets of the hospital bed. The three of them surrounded Prentiss' bed, providing a sheltering cocoon of comfort as each lulled her to sleep with their soft touches.

JJ felt Garcia elbow her in the side and she turned to look at the tech analyst. The flamboyant blonde looked at Hotch and Emily and asked a question with her eyes, _You seeing what I'm seeing?_

JJ bit her lip and gave a small nod. For years Garcia had insisted that there was something between Hotch and Emily though, "They were too dense to realize it themselves". Watching Hotch loom over Emily's hospital bed, grasping and rubbing her feet felt like vindication for the computer genius. JJ had to admit that watching him doing that had an adorable quality to it.

However, there was nothing adorable about this situation. The revelation that Robert Jones was Emily's father had rocked everyone to the core and JJ could see that Hotch was a hair's breadth away from exploding. Her muscles tensed and when Rossi, who was standing next to her, turned to look at her, she knew he too was concerned about what was going to happen next.

The nurse came back in and she glared at them all. "Five minutes are up," she hissed and this time no amount of pleas would budge her.

Slowly and quietly they filed out of the room, Elizabeth Prentiss was the last to leave as she leaned over to kiss Emily gently on her forehead. JJ had hung back, holding open the door and was the only one, save the nurse, to witness this small gesture of affection and it made her smile. She knew how contentious of a relationship Emily had with her mother but she was happy to see that despite their differences, mother-daughter love was definitely there.

Because she had hung back slightly, JJ missed what was happening, but she heard sounds of a scuffle and Morgan barking out, "Hotch!" JJ's head snapped around and she saw Hotch pinning Jones against the wall, his arm against the older man's throat.

Jones had left the room first, with Hotch on his heels. As soon as they were in the hallway, Hotch pounced, spinning Jones around and shoving him against the wall. He pinned the older man with an arm against his throat. He vaguely heard Morgan call out is name, but he was completely focused on the man who had sent his daughter undercover to seduce a madman.

Jones guards started to move forward, but Rossi and Morgan immediately blocked them. "We want some answers and you two aren't going to stop us from getting them," Rossi warned.

"I'll have your badge for this!" Jones gasped out as he felt Hotch slowly cut off his air.

"What type of man, what father sends his daughter after a murderer like Doyle?" Hotch asked, his voice cold and calm. His teammates and Easter sent him apprehensive looks. Hotch was beyond that white hot anger from earlier. This was icy and deadly and he was ready to give the beast within him full rein. "You gave Emily that assignment, seduce Doyle, bring him down. And then when he escaped and came after her, what did you do to protect her?"

"Get off of me," snarled Jones. "This is none of your concern." He looked dismissively at Hotch. "It's way beyond your clearance and pay grade, _Agent_."

"If it involves Emily, it is my concern. Doyle started to come after me, all of us, I want to know how you can sit beside her bed and act like the loving father without choking on your own words."

"Agent Hotchner!" Elizabeth Prentiss hurried to his side. "Let him go."

Hotch didn't move. He continued to stare at Jones, the pressure of his arm increasing ever so slightly. Time seemed to stop and the hallway was completely silent save for Jones' gasping breath. The dark beast within Hotch howled for blood. This man before him, Emily's own father, was responsible for much of the Hell she and they had all gone through. The beast reminded him of Emily's injuries, the brand, the bloody wound to her stomach, the beating he was forced to watch, her pleas for him to shoot through her and the fall. He had just left her as she lay, her body bruised and broken, in that hospital bed not twenty feet away and this man had the gall to say he cared about her? Loved her?

"Agent Hotchner!" Elizabeth said in a more commanding voice. She sighed and softened it, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please. Emily wouldn't want this."

The beast paused hearing her name spoken. Hotch's laser beam gaze did not waver from Jones' eyes. The beast encouraged him to press just a little harder with his arm, but the sound of her name stopped him. Invoking her daughter's name seemed to have the desired affect and Hotch reluctantly released Jones. The older man rubbed his throat and glared at Hotch. Before he could issue any threats, the Ambassador intervened once more.

"You forget all this, Robert," she spat out quietly. "Nothing happens to this man or his team, do I make myself clear?"

The former spouses looked at each other, decades worth of silent communications played out between them until Jones nodded slowly. He looked at Hotch and suddenly, the CIA director looked old and tired.

"I understand your anger. It's obvious you and the rest of your team care about Emily. But know this: Emily is one of the finest agents the CIA has ever had. No one else could have done this job and she knew it and because of it, many lives were saved. I can't even begin to guess how many. Emily didn't do this job because of me. She did it to save people. That's what Emily does. That's who Emily is."

Jones moved off down the hallway. The guards resumed their position outside of Emily's door. Hotch stared after the man's retreating back and he could feel the eyes of his team on him.

"Agent Hotchner, may I have a word with you?" the Ambassador asked quietly.

Hotch hesitated and then nodded his head sharply once. He didn't spare the others a glance as he followed the Ambassador around a corner and into an empty room.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I truly wish they would have Kate Jackson on more as Emily's mother. I think there's so much potential for them to mine there. Thanks for reading, and if you could leave a review, I would appreciate it**

The Ambassador walked towards the window as Hotch followed her into the room and allowed the door to swing quietly shut. Unlike Emily's room where the blinds had been drawn, these were pulled aside, allowing the soft, early morning fall light to filter into the room, bathing Elizabeth Prentiss in a gentle glow.

"It's a beautiful day," she commented to Hotch without turning around. "Emily's funeral was a beautiful day too. Strange that her 'resurrection' should also be as beautiful."

The mention of Emily's funeral caused Hotch to wince, but the Ambassador's back was still turned and she did not see the impact on him. He cleared his throat.

"I apologize for my behavior in the hallway, Ambassador."

Elizabeth bowed her head and Hotch heard a soft laugh. "The old bastard had it coming to him. But," she sighed as she straightened and looked out the window again. "I have to be fair and tell you the whole story." She finally turned around to face him. "Robert did not recruit Emily for the CIA nor did he select her for the Doyle mission. Emily was recruited via normal channels while she was in college. She showed way too much skill and intelligence for the Agency to ignore her. Robert didn't find out she had been recruited until she was far into the process."

"And he didn't try to stop her? Block her hiring?" Hotch queried.

"Emily was a grown woman at the time. An adult. Oh, we both tried to convince her not to go through with it, but Emily's sense of service is strong. She unfortunately takes after her father too much. And Robert does not believe in nepotism. He neither helped nor blocked Emily at the CIA. He treated her like any other agent. You notice Emily has my name and not his. Robert had insisted on that. While there are countless 'Jones' out there, he wanted to make sure his connection to us remained as under the radar as possible to protect us. Rather ironic, since that's how Emily managed to get so far into the recruitment process without him knowing.

"When the assignment on Doyle came down, all Robert felt he could do was to oversee the mission himself and handpick the international agents involved." She was silent a moment, awash in memories of a stubborn twenty-one year old Emily insisting she was joining the CIA. She could see the mixture of pride and fear in Robert's face. Proud that his daughter was following in his footsteps and serving her country, and fear of the dangers her new career would involve.

"He was the one who pulled her out, prematurely many felt. They had Doyle, but they didn't have all the information they needed to completely shut down his organization. But he couldn't stand Emily with that man a moment longer."

"And when Doyle escaped and was hunting Emily?" Hotch asked sharply. "Where was he then?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "You weren't the only ones Emily shut herself off from in order to draw Doyle's attention away."

"But he had resources! He should have just picked her up, locked her away in a safe house and protected her!" Hotch shouted.

"Like you would have had you known?" Elizabeth gazed at him with an undecipherable look.

"Yes," he answered promptly, his own gaze steady. "If I had known, I would have taken her away and made sure she was safe. We would have fought this together, but I didn't have the benefit of knowing, her father did."

"He had a greater mission," Elizabeth said wearily as she leaned against the bed in the room.

Hotch stared her, tilting his head, trying to read her expression. It finally dawned on him. "Oh my God, he was using her as bait for Doyle."

Elizabeth looked at him with sad eyes. "I can't prove that was his plan, but like you, I didn't understand why he didn't pick Emily up immediately and put her in protective custody. He said they were expending all of their resources in tracking Doyle, but he had to know and his resources could damn well cover a protection detail and a safehouse. And then when everyone else involved in Doyle's capture started to die..." She swallowed hard and stared off to the side, not meeting Hotch's enraged, intense gaze. "His sense of duty always outweighed everything else."

Hotch balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm and not run out of the room to hunt Jones down and beat him to an unidentifiable pulp. To think that bastard may have used Emily as _bait_ to re-capture Doyle sickened him to no end and he knew if he saw him now, Jones would be a dead man.

Elizabeth was watching him closely with a calculating gaze. She seemed to make up her mind about something and then said, "It's why I wanted to speak to you alone. I can't trust Robert to do what's right for Emily. We never did see eye-to-eye where she was concerned. My God, we even fought over her name. Can you believe she was named Emily based on a coin toss? Emily was my grandmother's name and Rose was Robert's grandmother's name. I won the toss so she became Emily Rose. No, we could never agree over Emily and I know we're not going to agree now. That's why I need you to help me protect her."

Hotch felt his heart stutter at the thought that Emily was still in danger. "You know I'll do anything to keep her safe."

Elizabeth smiled softly at him. "I was hoping you'd say that. I want you to bring Emily back to your team. Make her a member of the BAU again."

Hotch blinked in surprise. He looked at Elizabeth whose gaze had never wavered. "That's it? Just make Emily a member of my team again? Of course I'll do it in a heartbeat, but the Bureau-"

"I'll take are of it," the Ambassador said briskly. The soul-bearing over, she became the officious Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss again. "Your section has been long overdue for a re-organization." She sent a sly look towards Hotch. "I understand you've had your run-in's with Erin Strauss over the years."

"The Section Chief is a…formidable woman," was all Hotch would say.

Elizabeth nodded her head. "You won't have to worry about that anymore. You'll be reporting directly to Deputy Director Frank Williams."

Hotch blinked at her. "Williams? But how-?"

"As I said, things are being arranged." She took a step towards Hotch. "Don't think this is a free ride, Agent Hotchner, I'm doing this for Emily and it happens to turn out that it will be good overall for your entire team and I think the BAU. Erin Strauss has been carving out her own fiefdom and hampering the work you do. While budget cuts are necessary, some of the ones she made, including reducing the number of agents on your team, have greater consequences than a couple of thousand dollars. Her type of nonsense needs to stop."

"Why do you want Emily back at the BAU and with me?" Hotch asked suspiciously. "She'll still be in danger. We don't go after the most harmless people."

"No, and it'll be dangerous, but one thing Emily will have is you and your team. There will be someone to watch her back and you've just said to me, that you would do anything to keep her safe. Were you lying to me, Agent Hotchner? Will you keep my child safe? Because I never want to have to plan a funeral for her again."

Elizabeth looked at him with her soulfully dark eyes and for a moment, Hotch thought they belonged to Emily. He swallowed hard as he too remembered that day two years ago that was so similar to the one today. That day they laid flowers on Emily's casket and spoke of her bravery, her loyalty, her warmth, her compassion. Pretty words that couldn't do justice to the woman they thought was encased in mere wood and metal. Now, on this day she lay simply down the hall, warm and alive, ready to have more pretty words applied to her, but only this time, you could see why those pretty words were so apt.

"I swear, I'll keep her safe," Hotch said quietly, the depth of his commitment unmistakable to Elizabeth's ears.

She looked into his eyes and liked what she saw. She nodded her head gently. "It won't be easy."

"I know that moving the Bureau will be difficult-"

The Ambassador laughed. "Oh, working things out with the FBI will be the easy part. No, the harder part will be convincing Emily to come back." She smiled sympathetically at Hotch's confused look. "Oh, Agent Hotchner, you seriously did not think Emily would just come back to you and the BAU? Doyle's organization is still very much alive and well and committing terrorists acts. Emily doesn't like to leave things unfinished and her father needs her to help finish that mission."

"You really think she'll go back?" Hotch sat down on the bed in surprise.

"She'll feel it's her duty. You'll need to convince her otherwise. And you might need to convince your team. Do you think there won't be any residual feelings of betrayal? Trust issues? Will they want her back? Will Emily even want to come back?"

He hadn't thought Emily would be anywhere else but the BAU, though to be honest, he hadn't thought beyond Emily getting well. However, had anyone asked, he would have said the only obstacles to her re-introduction to the team would be FBI rules and regulations, rules and regulations that could be dealt with. But Elizabeth was right, what would be the reaction of the others? They haven't had time to process anything. No time for reflection, no time for the hurt and betrayal to settle in and consume them.

"Any way you look at it, it won't be easy," the Ambassador said quietly.

"I'll make it work," Hotch said firmly.

"They might fight you. _She'll_ fight you."

"I know, but I've fought big battles before and I don't intend to lose this one."

"Good. I hope not." She laughed softly again. "I do remember you from when you did my security all those many years ago. You were determined and focused then too." Her eyes turned serious. "You protected me and mine back then. I'm asking you to protect what's most precious to me now."

"I will," Hotch replied solemnly, giving her his oath.

Elizabeth nodded, satisfied with what she was seeing in Hotch. "He's having her moved the day after tomorrow to the Bethesda Naval Hospital. It's closer to DC and more secure. Be prepared, the doctors said two days, he'll likely move her tomorrow. He doesn't feel this hospital is secure enough. I would be there for the move. Likely he'll block you and your team from the list of visitors."

Hotch's jaw tightened and his eyes took on that hard, determined look that Elizabeth Prentiss was quickly becoming familiar with. "He'll fail."

She nodded again, realizing that she was doing that a lot lately with this man. "But he will try. So, we're in agreement? I'll arrange things with the Bureau and you'll convince Emily to return to your team?"

He nodded. It struck Hotch then that what he was agreeing to was strangely similar to what he had accused Emily of being apart of when she had shown up unannounced and uninvited to his team. He thought back then that she had used her political connections to finagle her way to the BAU and his team in particular. He had been wrong, though Strauss did have a political agenda. Now, he was complicit in exactly what he had considered to be reprehensible a few short years before.

And he felt no shame in being a part of it.

"She'll be very angry if she ever found out we did this," Elizabeth said as she watched him closely.

"Emily once said to me she hated politics," nodded Hotch. "She'll quit just on principle."

"So, we'll have to make certain she never finds out. Are you sure you're ready for this? To keep this from her? From your team? To compromise what are probably your principles?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because sometimes there are things that are above your principles. Things that are more important."

"And they are?"

"Family."

* * *

**A/N 2: I just thought it would be interesting to have things come sort of full circle from when Emily first joined the team. Hotch thought she had used her political influence to get the assignment when she hadn't, but now, her political connections were getting her a spot on the team, but this time, Hotch is a part of it and keeping it from Emily. I think that just opens up all sorts of delicious possibilities!**


	25. Chapter 25

Elizabeth excused herself to make some phone calls while Hotch went back to Emily's room. The scene he came upon could only be described as some strange version of a Mexican stand off. The two guards Jones had stationed outside of Emily's room stood glaring at the rest of his team who were lined up on the opposite side of the hall. Someone had dragged a couple of chairs from the waiting room and Garcia, JJ and Rossi were sitting while Reid and Morgan stood, the latter glaring at the CIA men, his arms crossed.

When they saw Hotch, his team came over to him, though Morgan continually looked over at the guards with a glare.

"You okay?" Rossi asked. The last time he saw Hotch, the man looked like he was about to pummel Emily's father. "What did the Ambassador want?"

This would be the difficult part, how much should he tell the team about the deal he made with Elizabeth Prentiss? While he had expressed faith and confidence in re-integrating Emily back onto his team, he couldn't say for certainty that everyone would be as welcoming as he had led the Ambassador to believe. Knowing he had made a deal to get her back and essentially foisting Emily upon them before they might be ready, may not be looked upon kindly.

"She thinks Emily's father will try to move her tomorrow, ahead of schedule, and then try to keep us away from her," Hotch opted to say.

He watched as their faces hardened into determined looks. "Try being the operative word," Garcia spat out.

"Seriously, what is wrong with that guy?" Morgan asked.

"He's taking precautions," Hotch informed them.

"Is Emily still in danger?" Reid queried. He stole a look at the guards. "Why would he feel the need to post guards if this whole thing was over?"

"The Ambassador believes that Jones thinks there could be a threat, but more likely he's trying to keep Emily tethered to him."

"Why?" Rossi looked searchingly at Hotch.

"Emily mentioned someone having to have run Doyle's organization when he was in prison. It was too intact for that not to have happened."

"So they think the organization might still come after her?" JJ asked worriedly.

"I don't know, but what I do think is that Jones wants Emily's help to break that organization up. She told us that for the past two years, while tracking Doyle, she's also been disrupting their work. In fact, one of Doyle's men told us how much of a nuisance Emily has been to their business." Hotch sent his own glare towards the guards. "I'm not going to let her father whisk her away again and put her in the line of fire of whoever may be running Doyle's group." He directed his keen gaze towards JJ. "That's what happened last time, right JJ? Emily faking her death, it was all his idea?"

The young woman blushed slightly when everyone turned towards her. She nodded. "Yes. He said it was for her safety." Her chin went up defiantly. "And I agreed. It was way too dangerous for everyone if Doyle knew Emily was alive."

"Dammit, JJ!" Morgan snapped. "It wasn't your decision to make!" He stared intently at her. "Did Emily even have a say in it?"

"Not at first," JJ admitted reluctantly. "But when she was conscious, she agreed it was probably for the best. She was hurt badly, unable to defend herself."

"And she's hurt badly again," Hotch interjected, wanting to get them back on track and also stop Derek's dogged interrogation of JJ. Hotch planned to speak to her later to get the full story, but now they needed to concentrate on Emily. "Jones won't be able to spirit Emily away like last time."

"Damn straight he's not," Morgan snapped out.

"Which means at least two of us stay will need to be with her at all times until she's moved and we're ensure continued access to her. The Ambassador believes she'll be transported to Bethesda Naval Hospital where they can control security better. I know we're all exhausted so why don't you all get checked into a nearby hotel and I'll take the first watch."

"Hotch," Rossi protested. "You're the one who needs sleep the most. I can stay here with one of the others."

Hotch shook his head. He couldn't leave now, not at this critical point and not when they've just gotten Emily back. Too much had happened over the last 72 hours and he needed to process, but more than that, he kept feeling the need to reassure himself that she was back and here with him. Besides, he felt himself too keyed up to be able to sleep.

"Well, at least let one of us stay with you," Rossi continued, seeing that determined look in Hotch's eyes. "You did say to do this in pairs."

Hotch hesitated a moment and then nodded his head. "JJ, if you can stay, I'd like it to be you."

She looked warily at him, but nodded. She suspected Hotch picked her not because she looked like the least exhausted one of the group. JJ had a feeling that once they were alone, her former boss was going to turn that laser beam stare onto her and demand to know everything about her part in faking Emily's death.

Rossi still looked like he was about to object, but stopped when Garcia placed a hand on his arm. "Uh, sir, I think Hotch is right and we should all go and get some rest." She knew that look on Hotch's face too and while normally she would be concerned for JJ, Garcia herself wanted answers about what really happened two years ago and knew that Hotch was the best person to get them out of their former media liaison.

Rossi still looked like he wanted to protest, but finally nodded. When they started to leave, he gave Hotch and JJ one last speculative look before hurrying to join the others.

Silence fell over them, the two CIA agents having ignored whatever had transpired between the FBI agents, or at least given the appearance of ignoring them. JJ sent another wary glance at Hotch and moved towards the chairs her group had dragged into the hallway earlier when Hotch stopped her.

"We'll sit with Emily in her room," he said. He went to the door and saw the guards flick a glance at him. He simply shot them a look that dared them to try anything and went inside Emily's room. After a moment's hesitation, JJ followed.

A single soft light had been left on near the head of the bed. It was turned far enough away to not bother Emily, but provide enough light for the nurses to check the monitors and the physical state of the patient. From her deep and even breathing, Hotch and JJ knew their friend was still sleeping and they didn't want to do anything to disturb that sleep.

Hotch took a seat in a chair in the far corner of the room and JJ sat down in one next to him. For a few minutes, they simply sat there in silence, JJ occasionally throwing a worried look at Hotch. He simply stared forward, watching the gentle rise and fall of Emily's chest and listening to the comforting steady beeps emitted by the machines surrounding her. Since this whole ordeal began, he finally allowed himself a moment's peace, knowing she was alive and before him, where he could see her and if he wished, could simply reach out and touch her. Some of the tension leached out of his body, letting him feel the weariness in his bones. However, it was only some of the tension.

"So, what exactly happened two years ago?" he finally said in a low tone.

JJ sighed, knowing this was the reason he asked that she stay with him. Given the choice, he would have preferred Rossi or even Derek. But Hotch wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"The reason I was brought into the Doyle situation was my connection to Emily and the BAU," JJ began. "I suspected that Emily taking off for Boston wasn't exactly an expected move by the CIA. Now that we know Jones is actually Emily's father, some of this stuff makes sense. My guess is that he panicked when she went off the grid. I was told to provide you with every possible help to find Emily. I thought that was all I was doing until-," JJ swallowed hard.

"Everything went to Hell and Emily almost died," Hotch supplied grimly. God, they had made mess of that entire investigation. Sure it was easy to lay all the blame on Emily and her secrets, but if only one of them had kept their head, treated it like a normal investigation, they would have caught on sooner, at least picked up on the multitude of clues Emily had left for them and this whole mess could have been avoided.

"When she was brought to the hospital, Jones met me and told me his plans. Well, you pretty much know the rest. Emily's death was faked and she was taken out of the country to Paris to recover. We developed three aliases for her to use."

"What went wrong?"

"Someone hacked into my files and found the one on Emily. Only three people alive knew what those three aliases were, me, Jones and the Ambassador."

Hotch's head snapped around to look at JJ. "The Ambassador knew?"

"She found out after Emily's fake death was decided. She wasn't happy, to say the least, but Jones couldn't let her think that her daughter was dead."

"But she still had to play the part of a mourning parent," Hotch replied as he turned slowly back to watch Emily. "Who was the mole?"

"We don't know." JJ explained to him what happened since the breach in security was discovered. She told him how Emily had returned and the plan she had worked out to save them. Hotch felt his admiration for the brunette grow, along with his uncertainty. The woman JJ was describing, the strategic, methodical, CIA agent was not the Emily Prentiss he had come to know and trust in the years she was on his team.

"She should have come to us in the first place," Hotch said quietly.

"Would it have made a difference?" was JJ's response. She sighed. "The type of man Doyle was, his resources, Hotch, I'm not sure if we were capable of handling him." She bit her lip. "I think, I think if Emily had told us earlier we might have eventually wound up doing the same thing Jones did to her. Use her as bait." She hastily explained when Hotch turned outraged eyes towards her. "Think about it. How would we have tracked Doyle? He only appeared when he wanted to and the only way to draw him out was with Emily."

"I would have never used her as bait," Hotch snapped out. "I would have found Doyle."

"Would you? How close were you to finding him in the last two years? What if it dragged on and on? Would all of us have gotten a security detail? Me? Jack? Henry? Would you have kept Emily hidden permanently?" JJ shook her head. "I'm not sure the alternative of Emily telling us earlier would have been better."

"We would have been focused," Hotch mumbled. "That's where we screwed up two years ago. All of us were too distracted, not on top of our game. Hell, I wasted so much time with Easter and Rossi relied too much on Seaver. Reid and Morgan barely had anything to offer. It was like we were all operating at 10%."

"It's because we were missing a part of the team. We were missing Emily," JJ's quiet voice said.

They both turned to look at the sleeping woman. Hotch knew JJ was right. Things weren't the same without Emily. They hadn't really been the same without JJ either. He needed his team back, his family.

"JJ," Hotch asked. "What would you say about coming back to the BAU?"

She turned to look at him and he caught the flash of hope in her face. JJ was never very good about disguising her feelings from him and the rest of the team. "Really?" she asked wistfully. "Hotch, that would be great. I mean, I know how important my work at State is and Lord knows I'm not looking forward to dealing with all the crimes we see at the BAU, but…I just haven't felt right away from the Team. Do you think it can actually happen?"

Hotch nodded, mentally making a note to talk to the Ambassador about it. "We'll make it happen, JJ." He nodded at Emily. "I'm going to make sure we have our entire team back. Our family."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: This was definitely one of those chapters giving me issues. It's partly transitional, partly going into the next "important phase" of things. But the uber-good news today helped me through this difficult time: Paget Brewster will be back on Criminal Minds! Whoo-hoo! I hope they grovel to her and make up for the utterly crappy treatment she received last year so it encourages her to STAY on the show beyond this next year. Now all they need to do is make sure Thomas Gibson stays and I can look forward to Season 7! A quick note to say thank you to all those who have left reviews. I truly appreciate the feedback and it'll be interesting to see what the show does do with Emily Prentiss' return next season. If you have a chance, I'd love it if you leave a review. Thanks!**

Jones tried to move Emily the next morning, as the Ambassador predicted. He was met by a still simmering Hotch, a stubborn looking JJ and a clearly angry Elizabeth Prentiss. With the presence of Emily's mother, Jones knew he couldn't put off the FBI agents and quietly whisk Emily away. Dr. Blake made matters even more difficult, arguing against Emily being moved so soon.

Dr. Blake's protests lasted long enough for the rest of the BAU team to arrive, creating an even more formidable barrier to Jones' original plans. The good doctor finally agreed to the transfer if Emily was sedated and if he himself, along with his hand-selected nurse, accompanied them on the trip to Bethesda. By that point, the tension between all the parties had risen so greatly, that the smallest thing would set them off. When Dr. Blake said Emily had to be sedated, that was the breaking point.

"What do you mean she has to be sedated?" Hotch snapped. The rest of the BAU team and the Ambassador didn't appear too happy either.

"Trust me, the transport will go much easier on Ms. Prentiss if she's unconscious," Dr. Blake assured them. He threw an annoyed look at Jones. "It wouldn't be necessary if the trip was just delayed a day or two."

"This hospital is not secure enough," Jones returned in an exasperated voice. "Unless I post guards on every floor and at every entrance, it won't be anywhere near as safe for Emily as Bethesda. She's better off there."

"I'm riding with her in the ambulance," Hotch stated, finality in his tone.

Jones turned a level look at the FBI agent and gazed silently at him for several heartbeats. Hotch steeled himself for another argument, but surprisingly, the CIA director simply nodded his head. "I see no problems with that."

Hotch gazed suspiciously at the older man. Jones seemed far too calm about his participation in the transportation and Hotch didn't like how Jones seemingly gave his approval for something that was not a request. Hotch did not take orders from this man and Jones attempting to maneuver himself into some superior type of position to the BAU leader rankled his already frayed nerves. Hotchner glared at Emily's father, intent on telling him exactly where they stood. The pissing contest between the two alpha males had begun.

Even the non-profilers recognized the brewing battle royale between the two men. Dr. Blake inched back slightly and then cleared his throat, saying something about making preparations for Emily's transport before wheeling around and hurrying off. Rossi and Morgan had moved behind Hotch to show their allegiance while the CIA guards did the same for Jones. JJ, Garcia and Reid watched wide-eyed and out of any potential line of fire. Before the confrontation could escalate any more, a cooler head prevailed.

"Enough," Elizabeth Prentiss snapped out as she inserted herself between her ex-husband and her new ally. "This petty display of male dominance does Emily absolutely no good. Now while I agree that it might be better if she was moved to the Bethesda Naval Hospital, Robert, you are not going to restrict her visitors. Fully vet them if you must, but unless there's a real security issue, you are not going to isolate her. Do I make myself clear, Robert?"

Jones turned the glare he had been directing at Hotch towards his ex-wife. When he looked down at her determined face, his features softened marginally. Seeing the agreement in his eyes, Elizabeth then turned her attention to Hotch. "And Agent Hotchner, chest-thumping and hallway brawls will do Emily no good right now." She looked meaningfully at him, silently reminding him of their earlier conversation.

Hotch tore his eyes away from Jones and looked at her. He gave a terse nod and a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

The interaction between Hotch and The Ambassador did not go unnoticed. Jones sent them a sharp look as did Rossi, wondering what the unspoken part of their conversation entailed for there was definitely some silent communication occurring between the two. Dr. Blake returning caused them all to focus their attention on him.

"The medical arrangements have been made and I've spoken to your man about the transportation. The only thing left is to administer the sedative to Ms. Prentiss," Dr. Blake informed them. He spun around and went into Emily's room.

Jones, Hotch noted, as he watched events unfold over the next hour, was annoyingly efficient. Emily never fully woke up that morning before she was sedated, making that entire process less of an ordeal. Had she know what was being done to her, Hotch had no doubt the feisty brunette would have had a few choice words for all of them.

Rossi had insisted on accompanying Hotch in the ambulance with Emily. The older profiler sat up front with the CIA agent driving while Hotch, Dr. Blake and the nurse he selected rode in the back with Emily, monitoring her condition. Hotch had sent Derek and Reid ahead to Bethesda to coordinate with Jones' security task force there and JJ and Garcia home to rest. Hotch had wondered why neither Jones nor the Ambassador had insisted on riding with Emily and then realized that not counting the lack of room for another person, his presence along with Rossi and the driver's was more important: they were providing the security in the ambulance. The feeling that Jones may have manipulated him to get the outcome he wanted renewed the earlier irritation Hotch had felt.

They arrived at Bethesda safely and were met by additional CIA guards and Morgan who nodded at Hotch and Rossi and informed them that Reid was in the private room set aside for Emily. She was whisked quickly up stairs to the tenth floor and efficiently settled in with a minimum of fuss. Dr. Blake and his nurse departed, stopping to meet with the doctor who will be Emily's attending physician to brief her on the case and soon only Emily's parents and the members of the BAU were left in her room.

Emily hadn't woken once.

Her breathing was as deep and steady as it was the night before when it was the only sound to Hotch's sleepless night. She looked a little better though the bruises on her face were turning those various shades of ugly green and black that indicated healing.

"Dr. Blake said she might be out for another hour or two, maybe longer depending on how much sleep she really needs," Jones said quietly to Elizabeth.

"I'm sure she's lost many hours of sleep over the last two years," his ex-wife snapped back at him. She took a deep shuddering breath. "If reiterating that information was an attempt to get me to leave, don't bother. I intend to stay here until she wakes up." She glanced over at the BAU men. "Agent Hotchner, excuse me, but you look like Hell. I think it's probably best if you go home for now and get some rest."

"She's right, Aaron," Rossi stepped in before Hotch could protest. "And isn't Jack coming home today? I think you should be there. Reid and I can stay and I'm sure JJ and Garcia will be by later."

"Yeah man," Morgan added his two cents into what was less like a conversation than bossing Hotch around. "You need the rest and you need to take care of Jack. I'll give you a ride home."

Hotchner glared at his friends, knowing they were pulling the Jack card to get him to leave and also knowing they were right. Fatigue was starting to hit him and while he wanted to stay with Emily to make sure nothing happened to her, he did need to see his son. He finally nodded.

"Call me if there are any changes," Hotch said. "I'll be back as soon as possible." He threw Jones a glare, glanced at Emily one last time and nodded at the others before leaving the room to go home with Morgan trailing after him.

As the door swung shut after the BAU leader, Elizabeth Prentiss immediately made herself comfortable in a chair. Reid offered to get her something from the cafeteria and she asked for a cup of tea. Rossi asked for some coffee. Jones declined the offer and Spencer left to go fulfill the requests. Jones murmured something to Elizabeth about making some calls and also left the room.

Alone, Rossi settled himself into another chair and looked over at the woman who bore such a strong resemblance to Emily, but seemed to have none of the warmth his friend embodied. For a few minutes he contemplated her. The others had told him stories of the one time the Ambassador had come to the BAU for help, her officious manner rubbing everyone the wrong way. Emily herself had mentioned some of the less than amicable aspects of her relationship with her mother, but this was really the first time Rossi has had a chance to interact with the woman. Definitely the first time the two of them have been alone.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Agent Rossi?" Elizabeth asked without turning her head. "You've been staring at me for quite some time. Or should I say, studying me?"

"How much and when did you know?" Dave asked, his meaning clear. "About her fake death?"

"Before the funeral," Elizabeth replied. "Robert is many things, but even he wouldn't have let me suffer for two years believing my daughter was dead. Though I suffered in other ways."

"You really think Jones, after all that's happened to her, will try to recruit Emily back to the CIA?"

"It's a possibility, one I would like to avoid."

Rossi stared at her a moment and remembered the silent and unusual communication in the hallway a few hours earlier between Aaron and this woman. "What have you and Aaron planned?"

Too many years of diplomatic training allowed her to keep a calm, unflappable expression on her face, but the fact that Elizabeth Prentiss turned to level a gaze at him confirmed to Rossi he was right. The Ambassador and Hotch had something going on that concerned Emily.

"Agent Hotchner and I simply agreed that being back on his team at the BAU would be in Emily's best interest," was the simple reply.

"All without consulting her," Rossi nodded at the still sleeping woman in the hospital bed.

"I do not know what Agent Hotchner believes, but I see no reason why Emily would object to returning to a job she loved," the smooth, diplomatic tones were very convincing, but not to Rossi.

"Maybe because she might feel an obligation to taking down Doyle's organization. She told us a little bit about it and how it's still functioning, maybe even better and deadlier than when Doyle was running it. I can't see Emily simply walking away entirely when such a threat to so many people is out there and she can do something about it. I can't see Jones letting her walk away."

"That's why I think asking her to come back to the BAU should be done in a way to make it the most enticing option available," the Ambassador replied with a meaningful look at Rossi.

Dave was silent, quietly regarding her. "Is that what you and Aaron have going on? Making sure he offers her the most 'enticing' deal?"

"Agent Hotchner is aware of the potential consequences should Emily decide not to return to the BAU." Her phone rang and Elizabeth excused herself, taking the call out in the hallway.

Rossi sighed and his gaze once more went to Emily. He knew Hotch and the Ambassador were up to something where Emily was concerned. Elizabeth Prentiss all but confirmed it. Whatever they were scheming had the potential to blow up in everyone's faces. If Jones wanted Emily back at the CIA he'll do what he can to scuttle those plans. Then there were Strauss and the hierarchy at the FBI to deal with. Then there was the team itself. Given the events of the last few days, they still haven't had time to deal with a newly resurrected Emily. And there was also the woman at the center of all this intrigue and how she would react if she found out Hotch was in cahoots with her mother manipulating her life. That was one explosion Rossi could happily live without seeing.

As if on cue, Emily began to stir in her bed. Rossi went to her side, remembering her violent reaction the day before when she woke up confused by her surroundings. He wanted to make sure she didn't inadvertently hurt herself.

Her eyelids began to flutter and slowly Emily opened her eyes. Rossi watched as she took stock of her surroundings, a frown on her face. Her gaze settled on him and she asked, "Where am I?"

"Bethesda Naval Hospital," Rossi informed her. "Your father felt it was best to move you here. Better security."

"Security?" Emily's brow furrowed. "Is he still worried about Doyle's organization?"

"So he says. Should he be? You know that group better than anyone else. You think the new leader will be interested in coming after you?"

Emily hesitated, thinking things through. "It's possible, but I think whoever is in charge now might be more interested in the business aspect. I don't know how much insight I can offer if this new head has restructured things. I was only effective this past year and a half because Doyle took back control and I knew how he operated."

"Do you think you're still a target?"

Emily sighed again. "With Doyle gone, I think it greatly reduces the odds, but I can't say for certain. I don't think I'm high up on the priority list. I think those who were loyal enough to Doyle to seek retaliation are either dead or arrested, depending on what Torre and his men did at the warehouse."

Rossi nodded thoughtfully and then went back to staring at her. Emily returned the look calmly waiting for him to initiate the conversation that she knew she would have to have with every member of the team.

"So, you know you're going to get asked this question and I think I know your answer but consider me the dry run for when you explain this to everyone else," Rossi began. "Why didn't you tell us about Doyle?"

"It was classified information and you were all better off not knowing," Emily replied with what Rossi thought was a well-rehearsed answer. "I simply couldn't explain to you what was happening. None of you had the clearance and the more aware you were of Doyle, the more likely he would have moved in on one of you. At the time, he was only interested in doing a little mental torture with me by threatening one of you guys. However, if he realized you were aware of him, started hunting him, he would have killed you."

"So you ran?"

"No," Emily replied evenly. "Let's get this straight, Rossi, I never ran. I drew fire. I went to face him for a showdown, but at no time did I run."

Her voice held a tinge of anger and Rossi knew he had hit a nerve. He tilted his head slightly, acknowledging his error in assessing her actions, they all had. They should have known better. Emily Prentiss never ran, she stood her ground and battled it out and they should have remembered that.

"I have to tell you, kiddo, I got no problems with your actions. Would I have wanted you to come to me? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn't. I also understand why you had to hide and fake your death. It still hurts, but it kept you alive and that's really what matters to me. But…"

"But you can't say if the others feel the same," Emily finished for him.

"No. I expect Morgan to be the most vocal about it, but you know Morgan. Blusters for a bit and then gets over it," Rossi replied. "Reid is hurt pretty badly, but I think he and Garcia will get over it the quickest."

"And Hotch?" was her hesitant question.

Rossi frowned. He actually didn't know how Hotch would process all of this. Right now, the man was running on fumes and he had enough to keep him preoccupied and not dwelling on how the last two years he had mourned someone who wasn't even dead. And if what Rossi suspected was true, that Hotch harbored deeper feelings for the brunette that went beyond mere friendship, her actions would impact him on an entirely different level from the rest of the team. Hotch was already a complex and emotionally scarred man and Rossi didn't know what these new revelations would do to him.

"I don't know how he's going to react," he said truthfully. "Hotch took your 'death' hard, Emily. I mean real hard. It was almost worse than when Haley died. Then he had Jack to keep him grounded and well, he killed Foyet. When we thought you were dead, Doyle was still running around alive and free and we couldn't find a damn lead on him. You know Hotch, that type of helplessness, uselessness, it hits him hard." Rossi paused as he looked down at the blanket that covered Emily's bed. He peered at the weave of the cotton threads so intently the pattern of it was imprinted in his mind.

"And then there was how we handled Boston when we tracked you there," Rossi began reluctantly. When he saw her tilt her head questioningly, he explained. "We screwed that one up, kiddo. It was a classic case of being too close. None of us could think straight. You know we missed all of your clues. Each and every one of us made a mess of it all."

"It's okay." Rossi shot her a sharp look, hearing something in her voice he couldn't quite identify.

"No, it's not," Rossi continued, peering at her closely, but the shutters had come down and that carefully controlled expression Emily could call forth at any time was in evidence now. "You were depending on us and we let you down."

"You did the best you could."

Rossi didn't know when it happened, but somehow their conversation had taken an almost impersonal tone. He knew Emily was withdrawing from him partway through, but the extent she had pulled away puzzled him. He peered closely at her, but she simply returned his gaze with an expression so stoic, it would do Aaron Hotchner proud.

Before he could delve deeper into the reasons for Emily's aloofness, the door swung open and Spencer Reid came in carrying two cups of coffee. His eyes widened seeing Emily awake and a small smile appeared on his face.

"Emily!" he greeted her.

She gave him a small smile. "Hey Reid."

The young man shuffled forward, giving her a small wave with one hand. That was when he realized he was still holding a coffee cup and hastily handed it to Rossi. The older man accepted it with a small thanks that hid his exasperation at being interrupted. Something wasn't quite right with Emily, but he couldn't put his finger on it.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: And now comes the time when Emily has to deal with each of her "family's" response to her resurrection. Thanks to all those who have left reviews. Woo hoo! Over 300! Thanks everyone! Hope you and enjoy and I am curious to hear your feedback. I'm also curious to see how they re-introduce Prentiss on the show itself!**

"You're looking good, Emily," Spencer said as he took the empty chair on the other side of her bed.

Prentiss snorted. "I seriously doubt that. I'm pretty sure my bruises at least are looking pretty bad by this point." She winced slightly as she tried to sit up a little higher. Both Rossi and Reid moved forward hastily to help her. After fixing her pillows and carefully laying back on them, Emily sighed. "I really hate broken ribs."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Reid clearly wanting to talk and Emily waiting to hear what he had to say. However, the young man didn't seem inclined to speak with Rossi in the room. He threw unsubtle looks at the older profiler that clearly said, "scram", but either Rossi didn't get the hint or deliberately ignored it.

It was the latter. Emily's shifting behavior as he was talking to her earlier concerned Rossi and he was determined to find the root of it. To do so, meant staying no matter how hard the kid was trying to get him to leave the room. However, that was not to be as a phone call from Morgan forced him out of the room for a few minutes.

With Rossi gone, Emily's attention was completely focused on Reid which seemed to unnerve the young genius even more. She took pity on him and asked, "Are you still getting headaches?"

Reid flushed. "Sometimes. They were more frequent after you…left." He frowned for a moment as he realized something. "I haven't had one since you've been back."

"Reid, it's only been a few days. Give it some time, I'm sure I'll induce more than one headache for you," Emily replied with a hint of a smile and a bit of her old teasing way.

The young man smiled shyly at her.

They lapsed back into an awkward silence, Emily patiently waiting for Spencer to begin to speak his mind.

"We, we haven't had a chance to really talk since you've been back," he finally began.

She gave him a lopsided smile, the bruises on her face still making it uncomfortable for her to use the muscles there. "I think we've both been a bit busy."

"Right," he chuckled nervously. "I get it," he said in a rush. "Logically, I understand your reasons for doing what you did, but Emily you left us. You left _me_." He looked at her with wounded eyes. "I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to you."

Emily felt a deep pang of regret. More than anyone else, she knew her deception was likely to cut Reid the deepest. Given his abandonment issues, how could he not feel so hurt? She patted a spot next to her on the bed and Reid silently obeyed her request. He came over and sat down on her bed close enough so she could pick up his hand to hold in both of her own.

"If I could have spared you guys, you especially Reid, I would have," she began softly. "But I honestly didn't see any other choice. I was running out of time, we all were. And short of locking you all away in some room together, probably making your sitting ducks, I didn't know how I could protect you all except to draw Doyle's attention as far away from you as possible."

"But we could have helped, Emily! We could have helped you fight him!" That was what truly hurt him the most. It was Colorado all over again, Emily risking her life to protect him as she took a vicious beating from Cyrus Benjamin. This time, she was willingly making herself a target for madman with a loyal army behind him. It made Spencer feel…small, less of a man in some way that she was always the one protecting him, drawing the fire and getting hurt and this time, almost dying.

She shook her head. "No you guys couldn't have because you've never dealt with a monster like Doyle before. He had us out gunned and out manned and he had the one advantage none of you had that would let him win this fight."

"What's that?"

"He would do absolutely anything to win."

"But-, but we would have too!" Reid sputtered in surprise. "Emily! We would have done anything to save you!"

She gave him a sad, tender smile and shook her head again. "No, you wouldn't have Reid, because that's not how any of you are. You have morals, principles, scruples. Doyle had none of those. The man killed indiscriminately. He killed children. Something would have always held each of you back and he would have exploited that soft spot in you and he would have killed you."

Reid didn't buy into what she was saying, but he knew Emily believed it. He truly did think he would have done what would have been needed to protect Emily and bring Doyle down. He remembered the blind, consuming, hot hatred he felt for Doyle just yesterday when he saw the brand he had left on Emily's chest. Yes, even if he had to put a bullet in Doyle's head himself, Reid would have been prepared to do that if it meant keeping her alive and safe and protecting the rest of his family.

"And the faked death? Why couldn't you and JJ trust us then?" Reid inquired.

"Because if you knew I was alive, one of you would have tried to seek me out." She tilted her head to the side. "Do you think Garcia wouldn't have tried to find me in some way? Morgan? Doyle still had eyes and ears on you all because he thought you might give him some lead to Declan. We couldn't take that chance."

"But JJ knew," he said sharply, feeling some resentment towards the blonde.

Emily pursued her lips together. "Reid, you can't blame JJ for any of this. She was simply following orders that came down from above and protecting me. And since she was with State, she was a bit removed from the rest of you and off Doyle's radar to an extent. She was the only one who could do it and they knew she was probably the only one I would trust."

"They? How much of this was your choice, Emily? The faked death, was that your decision or did your father decide for you?" Reid asked quietly.

"The CIA came up with the plan," she responded evenly, not mentioning her father specifically, "But I agreed with it and them. It was the only way to make certain you would all be safe. To make certain Declan was safe."

Reid sighed. "I just want it all to be over and go back to the way it was." He leaned in and carefully hugged Emily. "I just missed you so much. Please don't leave again."

She hugged him back as much as her broken ribs and bruises would allow her to. He didn't notice she hadn't promised him she wouldn't leave again.

* * *

"Morgan? What is it? Is Hotch okay? Jack?" Rossi asked rapidly as he turned a corner in the hospital hallway to find some of privacy as he spoke on the phone.

"Hotch and Jack are fine, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way for any of us," Morgan spat out angrily.

"Why? What's going on?"

"We're being called in for debriefing," Morgan explained. "Hotch just got the call. They're demanding we go in over the next few days."

"Well, that's standard," Rossi replied. While he would prefer a few more days to rest up and organize his thoughts, he didn't understand where Morgan's anger was coming from. "What's the problem?"

"The problem," Morgan explained angrily, "Is that the Bureau isn't doing the debriefing. It's the CIA. Easter already contacted us and given us a head's up. There are questions about the shot Hotch took to take out Doyle."

Rossi growled, understanding now why Morgan was upset. "Bullshit. This is all bullshit. That was a justified shooting, we didn't know what that bastard was going to do to Emily and we wouldn't have gotten down there in time."

"We just have to make sure we all give that story then so there's no question," Morgan said grimly. "And listen to this, they want to start Emily's debriefing today and we're to stay away from her until that's done. You know, so as to not compromise the debriefing results." Morgan snorted in disbelief.

"And keep her isolated from us," Rossi said grimly. "Let me talk to the Ambassador about that one. She seems to be able to handle Jones and we know this is all coming from him."

"What's with that guy, Rossi?" Morgan exploded in exasperation. "He uses his daughter to trap a murdering bastard like Doyle, sending her undercover with minimal back-up, if any, for months, then has her try to dismantle Doyle's organization while everyone else thinks she's dead? Now he's trying to isolate her? What kind of a sick freak does that to his own daughter?"

"We've seen sicker freaks in our time, Derek," Dave sighed. "The only thing we can do is try to protect Emily as much as we can, whether she wants it or not."

"Oh no," Derek swore. "The Princess no longer gets a say on whether we help or not. She's getting it and that's that. She doesn't like it, tough."

Rossi smiled slightly at the determined man's tones. While not completely over his anger and shock, the older profiler suspected that Morgan's relationship with Prentiss will turn out to be fine, just like he predicted.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting a new part to this story and "A Rose By Any Other Name." Work and real life just got super busy and quite honestly, when I have a moment to spare, I'm just way too tired to write. And as for "Rose", I swore to myself that what took priority was updating this story first, so "Rose" will get its update a little later. Just a warning, but work has become incredibly busy lately and I have a few upcoming business trips to take that I wasn't expecting, so at least for the next month, updating might be a little slow again. I have made a promise to myself that at least this story will be done before the new season of Criminal Minds airs with its entire cast back. Yipee! So again, apologies and thank you all for your patience and hanging in there with me. I hope you continue to enjoy. This part is pretty long and I appreciate any feedback folks would like to give.**

There were limits to what the Ambassador could do. The CIA and Interpol were very keen to debrief Emily and not even Elizabeth Prentiss could stop it. Not only did they have the last few days to sort through, but over the last year there had been little contact with Emily. They needed to know everything she had done to disrupt Doyle's organization's operations during that time and any information she might have on the organization itself. They needed to speak to her and short of a medical order no one was going to be able to stop them. The Ambassador and the FBI agents were politely, but firmly ejected from Emily's room. At best, they could only wait in the hallway.

That's where Morgan found Rossi and Reid, sitting in chairs placed across the hall from the door of Emily's hospital room which was guarded by two CIA agents.

"How long they been in there?" he asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door.

"About four hours," Rossi replied as he took a sip of coffee, his fifth cup. It was looking like it was going to be a nine or ten cup day at the rate he was going. "The Ambassador is off trying to do something about this. What's going on?"

Morgan sighed. "Garcia and JJ have already been pulled in for debriefing. You two are scheduled for tomorrow, me and Easter the following day and Hotch the day after that. They've already talked to Torre and his men."

"Are they still suggesting the shooting was unjustified?" Reid asked.

Morgan shrugged. "I haven't heard differently."

"How's Hotch doing?" Rossi asked.

Morgan sighed. "Well, as you expect, he's not happy about this. When Easter told us what was going on, Hotch got that cold, hard look in his face. You know, the one that said he was probably going to explode and do something he shouldn't be doing." Morgan shook his head. "But I doubt he'll be much help the next few days. When Jack came home and saw the bruises on Hotch's face, the kid had a melt down. Crying, clinging, he thought Hotch was going to leave him like Haley."

Rossi and Reid winced. "Ouch," the younger man said.

Derek nodded. "Yeah, ouch. Hotch is going to stay with Jack for the next few days just to calm him down and reassure him."

"Jack is his priority and that's where Aaron needs to be," Rossi agreed. "We can look after Emily."

"That's what I told him," Morgan replied. He didn't add how conflicted their boss looked when he realized he wouldn't be able to do anything to help out their newly resurrected friend over the next few days. From what Morgan had observed of his Unit Chief during their captivity, he suspected Hotch's feelings for Emily ran a lot deeper than anyone, Hotch included, realized.

At that moment, Emily's doctor, Colonel Lancaster, approached Prentiss' hospital room door. She nodded at the FBI men and looked pointedly at the guards when they moved to stop her. When they recognized who she was, they stepped aside and she went into Emily's room, the door closing quietly behind her.

After about ten minutes, two middle-aged men in suits and another, younger one carrying a laptop bag and portable file case exited the room. Rossi stepped up to them. "Is it over?" the profiler asked.

"Her doctor has ended the debriefing for today. We'll be back tomorrow. Until then, we are asking that none of you see or speak to Ms. Prentiss in order to not taint the information in the debriefing."

Before any of the BAU men could protest, Colonel Lancaster came out into the hallway. "They won't be seeing any more of her today anyway. She's exhausted and is asleep now. How long will these debriefings go on for?"

"Given the amount of ground we covered today, I would say we'll need at least three to five days to complete it," one of the men replied.

"Three to five days! You intend to isolate Emily for that long!" Morgan sputtered.

"We can't have you tainting the debriefing in any way-," droned the other man.

"This is bullshit!" Derek exploded as he started forward towards the men. Rossi's arm held him back even as one of the guards started to move forward.

"I agree, it is ridiculous to isolate Ms. Prentiss," came the crisp voice of Colonel Lancaster. "Gentlemen, your debriefing takes a backseat to the health and welfare of my patient and to continually subject Ms. Prentiss to these sessions without any breaks or contact with other visitors will severely hamper her recovery." She gave the men who conducted Emily's debriefing a pointed look. "And we know that Ms. Prentiss' recovery is the top priority. I suggest a compromise. I understand that simultaneous debriefings are being conducted with other parties who were involved in the…incident. Those who have already been debriefed will be allowed to visit Ms. Prentiss, that way, at least on their ends, there could be no concerns about collusion and it is really the other people you're concerned about, and not Ms. Prentiss, is it not?"

The BAU agents looked in surprise at Colonel Lancaster who obviously was more aware of the situation than a simple physician should be. She was no taller than five feet three inches and appeared to be in her late fifties. Her long gray hair was pulled back in a bun and the round spectacles gave her the appearance of a slim Mrs. Claus. But the blue eyes that peered out of the round glasses were sharp and shrewd and glinted with a toughness seen only in the most hardened soldiers.

"No," Suit #1 said reluctantly, not willing to be blamed for possibly compromising the health of the patient, especially this particular patient. "You're right. I believe those are acceptable terms."

"Wonderful," she beamed at them with false joviality. "Then we are agreed that as soon as Ms. Prentiss' friends' debriefings are concluded they are free to visit her. I am also setting up scheduled visits for you gentlemen. Let's see, four hours each visit. Let's say they can occur between one pm and five pm. That way they won't interfere with any of Ms. Prentiss' treatment. Yes, that should work out quite nicely." Her look dared the agents to argue with her.

Rossi, Reid and Morgan turned their own smirks towards the CIA agents whose faces were darkening with anger. Suit #2 nodded his head sharply before turning around and walking down the hallway, followed by his counterpart and the silent man holding the laptop and file box.

When they were out of sight, Colonel Lancaster turned her attention to the BAU men. "I hope those terms suit you gentlemen? You were all very quiet during that exchange."

"I think it was the best we could hope for," Rossi said. "How-?" He waved an eloquent hand.

"Elizabeth Prentiss and I go way back," the Colonel replied. "That plus my high security clearance helps a lot. And all of my rules I've laid down are good sound, medically related parameters. I have to limit the stress of the debriefing and Emily shouldn't be isolated with just those men and they," she jerked her head in the direction the CIA agents had taken, "Are nothing but stress inducing impediments to her health."

"I think I just have a new hero." Morgan flashed the doctor his brilliant smile. Colonel Lancaster blinked and a pretty pink hue touched her cheeks. This only caused Derek to smile even more as he noticed the steely doctor was flustered.

Reid snorted in exasperation and even Rossi rolled his eyes. Leave it to Morgan to send even the hardest nosed woman into a blushing pile of goo. He elbowed Morgan gently. "Down, Romeo."

* * *

Penelope Garcia stared across the table at the Spanish Inquisition. Really, it was a panel of four people questioning her on the Doyle investigation. She only recognized one person there, Frank Williams, Deputy Director of the FBI. She suspected his presence was more of a courtesy than anything else. The other members were representatives from the CIA, Interpol and NSA. A transcriber sat to the far left of the group. There was one other person in the room, whose function Garcia did not know. The woman wasn't introduced and during the entire time, she had not said one word. Even Williams had been allowed to ask a question or two. This woman simply sat in a corner and listened and observed. If anything, Garcia was most unnerved by her presence.

"And you were in the surveillance van the entire time?" Scary guy from Interpol asked. "You never went into the warehouse?"

"No sir," Penelope said for the sixth time. "I was told to remain in the van. I'm a techie, not an agent. I don't even believe in guns. Major Torre did assign a man to stay with me. That was it."

They had covered Emily's return and her plan to throw off the other agencies, including the FBI, in an attempt to trick the mole. Hearing about this made the CIA and NSA irritated, though Scary Interpol guy turned his snort of laughter into a cough. After all, it wasn't his agency that got spun around and played by Prentiss. Williams looked upset at first and then Garcia could see the gleam of admiration in his eye.

However, they seemed very focused on what went down inside the warehouse which she had no idea about. JJ had given her a brief recounting of the events, really just broad strokes. They had all been too worried about Emily's condition to talk about it and Garcia wasn't interested in the gory details. However, it was the questions about Hotch that raised her hackles. Memories of what happened after Foyet was killed made her wary of what they were trying to do now. She realized these men were trying to find dirt on the Boss Man.

"With all due respect, sirs," Garcia said in a strong, clear voice. "I have never known Agent Hotchner to not act in anything but the most proper, ethical and correct way for the better of everyone. If there are any questions about his actions in the warehouse, there shouldn't be, because I have no doubt in my mind that he acted in the best interest of everyone in there and made the correct decision."

"But you weren't there, so you wouldn't know," NSA sniped.

"No, but I know Aaron Hotchner."

"What are your feelings about Emily Prentiss?" Williams said quietly.

"Wha-? Who, uh, Emily?" Garcia was thrown by the sudden shift in topics.

"Yes," Williams replied as he leaned forward. "How do you feel about Ms. Prentiss? You were close to her before her faked death. But you and the rest of the team didn't know about her past with the CIA nor anything about Doyle. Now she's back, the threat has been eliminated. How do you feel? How would you feel if she came back and was a part of your team again?"

Garcia stared blankly at Williams. How did she feel about Emily returning? She hadn't had time to really think about it. Would she want her back at the BAU? More than anything, their team dynamic was built on trust and that had been severely shaken the past two years, first with Emily's secrets then her running away, her faked death and subsequent return. There were still so many questions she had for Prentiss and now she was being asked if she could accept her back on their team, to trust her again.

"Its okay, Ms. Garcia, we can move on," Williams said in what was supposed to be a kind tone, but Garcia felt as though she had made a grave mistake by waiting too long to answer.

* * *

Jennifer Jareau gazed calmly at the men before her. She deftly dealt with each question, providing an accurate and honest accounting, or at least she conveyed that impression. Her years of media experience served her well during these debriefings. The only time where they saw a wrinkle of what might be called confusion or concern was when the questioning turned towards the actions of Aaron Hotchner.

"Sir?" she asked inquiringly. "Could you repeat that question?"

"Did Agent Hotchner respond, in your opinion, in the correct manner when shooting Ian Doyle? Did he follow Bureau protocols for such a situation?"

"I don't think the Bureau exactly has a protocol for dealing with someone like Ian Doyle," JJ replied dryly. "But if you're asking whether I believe Agent Hotchner used excessive force when dealing with Doyle, no. Agent Prentiss was wounded and vulnerable to Doyle at that moment in time. He was clearly going to cause her some bodily harm and she was in no condition to defend herself nor were we in a position to reach her in time. I believe Agent Hotchner shouted out a warning to Doyle to stop, but that man was intent on killing Emily. Hotch did what needed to be done to protect her." And JJ would go to bed with her conscience free that she spoke the truth, Hotch did what was necessary to protect Emily.

"And what are your feelings about Emily Prentiss?"

They threw her for a second time and JJ blinked at them. "My feelings towards Emily? What do you mean?"

"She did keep her past hidden from all of you and when Doyle re-surfaced, massacring entire families, she still kept quiet, still kept you all in oblivious danger. You must have some feelings about that."

JJ's jaw worked slightly and she took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm sure she did what she felt was right and best for everyone." Her voice grew stronger. "I don't know what I would have done in the same situation, but I believe that Emily Prentiss thought she was acting in all of our best interest."

"And you don't resent her for putting you in that position to lie to your friends that she was still alive?"

That was the thing, despite what she told the others, JJ _had_ resented Emily for the burden that she, JJ, was forced to carry. She hated how she had to pull away from her friends because she was worried about letting something slip. The few times she had seen them, she had to watch them grieve and she had blamed Emily for all of it. Emily and her secrets had been the cause of so much pain and forced JJ into an impossible position. "I carried out the orders I was given and am satisfied with the results."

She had been going for a "safe" response, but realized too late that she sounded as though she had no desire to help out Emily and was only being forced to. Panic welled up in JJ, knowing that they would take her words to mean exactly that and she tried to correct them. She started to open her mouth to say more, but the CIA man was already talking.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Jareau. You're dismissed." She watched as the CIA agent leaned back in his chair, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her that this was all far from over and she had just possibly made things worse.

* * *

The two blondes hurried down the hall, looking for the correct room number. It really wasn't hard to find. It was the room with the two intimidating CIA guards outside of it. They checked JJ and Garcia's IDs and allowed them into Emily's room.

She was resting with her eyes closed, but as soon as she heard the door, they flashed opened and she sent a wary look at her visitors. They saw her relax a little when she saw who it was.

"Hey," Emily's voice was a mere croak. She cleared her throat and leaned over to try to reach her cup of water.

Garcia automatically hurried forward, dropping the shopping bags she had in her hands so she could hand Emily her cup. The brunette smiled her thanks and took a sip of water. She handed the cup back to Garcia who replaced it on the bedside table. Emily settled back against her pillows and regarded the two other women thoughtfully. Both women had uncomfortable looks on their faces and the profiler saw something else…guilt, she realized. She gave them a humorless smile.

"I take it you've had your debriefing?" If she was going through it, she had no doubt everyone else was too. JJ and Garcia must have said something that made them feel guilty. "Who ran it? Certainly not the Bureau, it wasn't their op." She tilted her head to the side and nodded. "CIA and maybe…NSA was involved too? Interpol?"

"Got it in one, Em," JJ murmured. She shifted on her feet. She felt she needed to warn Emily that she might have said something damaging in her debriefing, but how to start the conversation when it was about her own feelings of resentment towards Emily herself?

"Presents!" Garcia cried out, filling the awkward silence and disrupting JJ's musings. "We brought presents!"

"Well, I see the flowers," Emily said as she nodded at the large bouquet in JJ's hands, though she hadn't missed the play of emotions over the former media liaison's face. "That's enough. You didn't have to bring me anything."

Penelope snorted. "Please, like I would leave you in that horrible hospital gown." She picked up the bags she dropped and pulled a pair of soft cotton pajamas from one of them. They were a pretty lavender color that had large white daisies with smiley faces in the center scattered all over them. Emily arched an eyebrow at her.

"They're soft and warm and better than that piece of scratchy paper you're wearing now," Garcia pointed out. She began digging in the other bags, pulling out stuff and dumping it on Emily's bed. "I also got you some toiletries, tooth brush, hair brush, shampoo, that sort of thing. Some books and magazines. Slippers and a robe. Socks. Oh! And your own special blanket because seriously, the décor here sucks and these hospital ones wouldn't warm an ice cube. Oh, and this!" Garcia pulled a teddy bear in a leather jacket and sunglasses holding a heart that said, "Special Agent Hugs." JJ and Emily gave her a look. "What? It's cute!"

"Garcia, thank you, but you really didn't have to," Prentiss said as she shifted in the bed. They saw her wince slightly and grab her ribs. "No, its okay," she said as they started to move forward to help her. "PG, I really appreciate it, but you didn't have to get me anything."

"Well, consider it my attempt to beautify the world because this place sure needs it," Garcia huffed.

Another awkward silence descended on them until Emily asked if they could help her change into the pajamas and brush her hair. Glad for something to do, JJ and Garcia rushed forward. The two blondes fluttered around Emily like two golden birds, flitting and flapping and making far too much noise. They seemed to not notice Emily's near silence, so intent were they on maintaining a continuous chatter. She saw it for what it was: nervousness. Couple that with the earlier hesitancy JJ showed and the guilt that was on each of their faces, Emily believed each may have said something about her in the debriefing that they were regretting now.

When JJ and Garcia had finished, they stepped back to admire their handiwork. The new pajamas seemed to give Emily's pale face a little more color. Her hair had been brushed and pulled back from her face by a headband that was also in one of Garcia's shopping bags. While it needed to be shampooed, her hair was neat and tangle-free and just having that done along with a change of clothing made Emily feel a little more human.

She smiled at her two nervous friends. "Thanks, I do feel a little better now." She eased back against her pillows.

"A vase," JJ said unexpectedly as her eyes fell on the flowers she brought. "I'm going to ask one of the nurses if there's a vase for the flowers." She scurried out of the room.

Emily was glad to see JJ leave, happy to have some alone time with Garcia because whatever was bothering the tech analyst, she didn't think she would share in front of JJ. She turned an expectant look at the remaining blonde.

"So," Prentiss began as Garcia began to look increasingly uncomfortable. "How did the debriefing go?" Garcia looking away and fiddling with the stack of books and magazines she had brought was told Emily what she needed to know. That _was_ what had been bothering the tech analyst. "Garcia," she said gently. "It's okay. If you were completely honest, then you did nothing wrong and have nothing to worry about."

"I-, I think I screwed things up, Emily," she finally admitted in a small voice.

"How? You told the truth, didn't you?"

Garcia nodded, but the expression of doubt was still on her face. She gestured inquiringly towards the bed and Emily patted a spot next to her. Garcia sat down.

"What exactly did they ask you?"

"It started off with standard stuff, about what happened, your plan for catching Doyle, etc. They seemed really interested in what happened in the warehouse, but of course, I couldn't tell them anything since I was outside. Then they started to ask questions about Hotch-"

"About Hotch?" Emily's voice had sharpened and she gave Garcia a hard stare. "What were they asking about Hotch?"

The intensity of Emily's look and the tone in which she asked that question caught Garcia momentarily off-guard. She peered at her friend, searching her face and for the first time in a long time, the blonde felt the urge to tease someone.

"Concerned about the Boss Man, Em?" Penelope said in a light voice, remembering how protective their leader had been of the brunette and not forgetting how he had massaged her feet the other day.

Emily's face quickly dropped back into her cool, unreadable mask, but she was too late. Garcia filed away that rather interesting slip her usually secretive friend had made. "I'm merely concerned about what several intelligence agencies could be asking regarding Hotch." She took a steadying breath and winced slightly as her ribs protested. "It's usually not a good sign when one of them, let alone two or more, take an interest in you, especially if you were just involved in an op where there's a body count."

"They were asking if Hotch may have broken protocols in shooting Doyle," Garcia admitted quietly, all sense of fun about teasing Emily disappearing in a blink of an eye. "I'm worried about him, Emily."

Emily sighed wearily. "Those few minutes, they're still a little fuzzy for me, but I had hoped that Hotch hadn't taken the shot. Clyde or Torre would have been better."

"Why?"

"Because Torre was far enough removed from me and all this that no one would question his actions and Clyde's orders were to kill Doyle. Hotch or anyone with the Bureau pulling the trigger, it would just create…issues."

"But he did it to save you," Garcia pointed out. She had gotten the full story from JJ after they were both done with their debriefing. "JJ told them that." She fiddled with the colorful blanket she had bought Emily and which now was spread across the patient's bed. "There's also the bad feelings between your father and Hotch."

"What?" Emily blinked. "Bad feelings between my father and Hotch? What are you talking about?"

Garcia paused, not sure if she should really say anything but then gave a mental shrug. It was better if Emily knew what a total turd her father was and how Hotch was trying to do everything he could to protect her. She explained what happened back in the Baltimore hospital, how the Ambassador interceded and how Hotch had acted like her personal guard dog.

Emily blinked again and simply stared at Garcia for a few moments. All this happened while she was unconscious? She closed her eyes and sighed. Of course something like that would happen, it was her parents.

"I'm so sorry you all got dragged into it," Prentiss murmured.

"Em, it wasn't you, Doyle-"

"I'm not talking about Doyle, though I am sorry you guys did get dragged into _that_ mess. I'm talking about being pulled into my parents destructive, one-up-manship battles." Emily sighed and slowly shook her head. "Most of my childhood was spent listening to them argue and fight and inevitably, I became one of the things they fought the most over. My father isn't going to put me or Hotch in a bad position, but my mother, of course, thinks the worst of him. I'll make certain Hotch will be fine. I'll talk to my father about it and make sure the CIA isn't pursuing anything."

Garcia looked doubtfully at the brunette. She wasn't certain if Emily quite understood what had happened in that Baltimore hospital. While there were elements of bad blood between the two former spouses, there were definitely other undercurrents going on, namely the type of stuff that involved government agencies and secret agendas attached to it. She didn't have her friend's confidence that it was a simple domestic matter that could be resolved by a talk with daddy.

Emily tilted her head as she regarded Garcia, her brow wrinkling a little. She suspected that something else was also bothering the tech analyst. While she also was concerned over Hotch, Emily hoped she was being overly cautious about that situation and that a conversation with her father would take care of any potential issues. Something else, however, was preoccupying Garcia.

"And?" Emily prompted.

"And what?" Garcia shot back, though she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Something besides Hotch has got you worried. Something else happened during the debriefing that's making you feel…unsettled. And I suspect it probably has something to do with me since you've barely looked me in the eye since you've arrived."

"Damn profilers," Penelope muttered.

Emily gave her a faint smile. "So what was it?"

"They, they asked me how I felt about you," Penelope finally said reluctantly.

"Oh?" was Emily's bland and emotionless response. That got her a sharp look from Garcia.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well, what did you say when they asked?" Emily returned.

"Nothing," Garcia admitted. At Emily's raised eyebrow. "Nothing. I said nothing. I was so surprised and unprepared that I just sat there and then they moved on. I think I made things worse."

"Garcia, there was nothing to make worse or better," Emily said calmly. "Really, everything is fine. I wouldn't worry about what you said. As long as you told the truth, nothing bad will happen."

"Really?" Garcia looked hopefully at her.

Prentiss nodded. "It's routine. Doyle wasn't just on the most wanted list for the US. He'd pissed off at least a dozen other nations. The US wasn't the only nation who wanted him dead. Really, there's nothing to worry about."

"And you're not upset that I had nothing to say when asked how I felt about you?" Garcia peered closely at the other woman.

"Garcia, how you feel is how you feel. I did what I felt was the best way to protect all of you. I've explained why I did it and I'm in no position to criticize how you feel about it. I have to accept what it is you're feeling." Emily's voice was calm, rational and almost emotionless.

"How can you stay so calm?" the blonde snapped. She got up and began to pace. "It's like you don't care!" She continued on her rant. "Don't you realize how we fell apart when we thought you were gone?" She stopped pacing and leaned in close towards Emily. "When we thought you were dead, we were gutted, Emily. _Gutted._" Her hands fluttered up in exasperation. "Don't you even care?"

"Of course I do," Emily spat out in a low voice. "I can't change any of _that_. And I'm not going to insist that any of you shouldn't feel that way. But I won't say what I did was wrong because it wasn't. I had no choice and if it means you all hate me it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative which is that you would all be _dead_!"

"You really believe that would have happened?" Garcia asked in frustration.

"I know."

"Well," Penelope snipped. "Doesn't sound like you have much faith in our abilities."

"Not when it came to Doyle," Prentiss replied evenly. "Look at everything that's happened. He's always stayed two steps of all of you."

"Only because you kept information from us!"

"And if you were really that good, you wouldn't have needed my information." Emily titled her head to the side. "Were you good enough to find him when you all thought I was dead?"

That brought Garcia up short. They had all hunted for him and it bordered on obsession for each of them, but consistently they turned up nothing. Deep down, Garcia knew that they probably couldn't have handled Doyle and that if they had tried, Emily was likely right, the body count on their side would have been a lot higher.

Garcia sank back down onto the bed, the slumped set of her shoulders telling Emily that the other woman had finally came to the same conclusions Emily had two years before: the safest course for everyone was for them to have stayed out of it.

Penelope sighed and turned watery eyes towards Prentiss. "I'm still mad," she said softly. "But I understand better. I don't like it still. No one wants to be told they're more useful doing nothing and being ignorant. I'm also mad at JJ and you for the faked death, but I understand." She gave Prentiss a small smile. "I understand."

Emily reached out to cover Garcia's hand with her own. "And that's all I can expect from anyone."

* * *

Emily could see that Garcia needed a moment to herself so she asked the other woman if she would get her something else to drink besides the water by her bedside. Penelope had grasped onto that opening and left the room, promising to hunt down the requested orange juice in the cafeteria.

With the tech analyst gone, Emily leaned back against her pillows and sighed. While she had assured Garcia that Hotch would be fine, she couldn't help but feel a bit of trepidation climbing up her spine. The orders had been explicit, Doyle was to be killed, not taken prisoner. It shouldn't have mattered who pulled the trigger. The debriefings then should have been routine and Hotch's actions should have only received the most perfunctory of examinations. She hoped that Garcia's anxiety was over-blown and that JJ had a much different take on the situation, but somehow she knew that would not be the case.

Someone was after Hotch, but she suspected he wasn't the main prize, merely a means at getting to something, or someone, else.

Her room door swung open and JJ came in with the flowers in a clear glass vase. She set them on a table on the far side of the room.

"They're beautiful," Emily said with a small nod towards the arrangement. "Thank you."

JJ smiled again, but there was more than a touch of trepidation and nervousness in it. Emily settled back among her pillows and calmly folded her hands on her lap. "Okay, out with it. What happened at the debriefing that has you so twitchy?"

"That obvious?" JJ asked wryly as she sat down at the foot of the bed, much further away from Prentiss than the place Garcia had taken earlier. This didn't go unnoticed by Emily.

However, the brunette merely nodded. "I've already pried out what was bothering Garcia from her, so now it's your turn."

"So you know that they're looking into Hotch's actions? Killing Doyle, I mean." When Emily nodded, JJ sighed. "I think he could be in big trouble, Em."

"Don't worry about it, I'll look into it."

JJ raised her eyebrows. "What can you do?"

"I think it's time I tap into those political connections I have," Prentiss said wryly. "Don't worry about it, I don't think it's serious."

JJ wasn't as easy to fool as Garcia was and she shot Emily a sharp look. "Really? You really think that?"

"I really think I know how it can be handled where there won't be any repercussions on Hotch," Emily clarified.

The blonde tilted her head to the side and regarded her friend thoughtfully. Emily simply returned the look and JJ saw enough to satisfy her. She nodded her head. "Okay. That would be good because Hotch has been through way too much over the last few years to have something else thrown on him."

Emily heard the note of accusation in JJ's voice and she threw a sharp look at the blonde. "I'm guessing you're implying that I'm one of those "way too much" things."

"You weren't here to see what happened when the team thought you were dead, Em," JJ replied quietly. "They all suffered, all of them, but I think Hotch suffered the most, maybe even more so than when Haley died. At least then, he had Jack to keep him grounded and he only had to worry about Jack. With you, he had to take care of the rest of the team. And he never stopped looking for Doyle. With Foyet, there was closer, but Doyle was like bleeding wound, a wound that was open and bleeding for two years.

"And not a day went by where he didn't blame himself," JJ continued. "They all did. If they had only been faster, better, smarter, something, they could have saved you."

"I didn't wish that on them. Would never have wished any of it on any of them," Emily remarked sadly. "But the alternatives would have been catastrophic."

JJ let out a snort of disbelief and exasperation. "Yes, yes, I know the whole story and you're probably right, but it doesn't make it any better o easier." She got up and went to the window that had a mediocre view of the parking lot.

The two women were silent for a few moments, JJ staring out the window unseeingly and Emily staring at JJ. The profiler noted the tenseness of the younger woman's body and thought back to her conversation with Garcia. She also noted the one thing that JJ hadn't touched upon when talking about the team mourning her supposed death.

"And you?" Emily asked softly. "It wasn't easy for you knowing I was alive and having to keep it secret from the others." She saw JJ tense up even more and knew she had hit upon what was bothering her friend. "You resent me for putting you into that position, don't you? So, how did you cope?" JJ still hadn't turned around but her body was so rigid that the slightest touch would probably topple the blonde over and cause her to shatter. "You've never been good at lying to the team, especially Hotch, so I can't imagine you keeping it up for almost two years unless you've limited your contact with them during that period. Am I right? You pulled back so you wouldn't accidentally let something slip."

"Yes!" JJ snapped as she suddenly whirled around. "I had to pull back from my family just to protect YOU! It was almost like being on the run myself! I couldn't even tell Will about! I was alone too, Emily, just like you and I had zero say in the matter!"

"And you resent me for putting you in that position." Prentiss' voice was still calm, but she felt the guilt eat away at her like an ulcer.

Just as it was quick to appear, the anger left her and JJ's shoulders slumped forward. She walked slowly back to the bed and sat down on it, a little closer to Emily this time, but still not as close as Garcia had been. "Yes," she answered quietly. "I don't want to feel this way, but I can't help it. I do resent you for making me lie. For separating me from my family. For making me feel alone."

"I'm sorry," Emily said softly. "I can't do anything else but keep saying that, but know that I do mean it and that I'm grateful to you for keeping my secret."

JJ waved her hand. "There's nothing you can do, it's really about me getting over this. I mean, I understand that what was done was done because it was necessary. My mind understands it, but…"

"It takes a little longer for the heart to catch up," the brunette finished for her in a wry tone.

JJ quirked a smile at her. "Yeah, but don't worry, it will. Afterall, what you've been saying goes both ways."

"What do you mean?" Emily gave her a puzzled frown.

"Well, you couldn't tell us about Doyle and had to go into hiding to protect all of our lives. I had to lie to protect your life. The alternative of a possibly dead Emily Prentiss is just as unacceptable to me and the others as our deaths would have been to you."

Prentiss gave her a small smile. "Thanks, JJ."

This time the blonde did move forward and she gave her friend a gentle hug. "It'll all work out, Em. I know it will."

What JJ didn't see was the somber look on Emily's face that clearly said that the brunette didn't have her friend's confidence in how things will turn out.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I admit, I don't write a particularly good Derek Morgan, so this part, I'm not 100% satisfied with but I think I probably have it the best of my abilities. I will say that after this part, for the Hotch/Prentiss fans, from here on out, it's mainly them. So enjoy the part and really, thanks for sticking around for this story and taking the time to leave reviews. I would love to hear what folks think. Thanks again.**

Spencer Reid's expression was polite and curious, no hint of nervousness or duplicity.

"Actually, considering Agent Hotchner had been bound and in that chair for over 48 hours, I find it remarkable that he was able to move so easily once he was free," Reid said.

"Was he frantic in his actions?"

"I think we all were. Doyle had Agent Prentiss in front of him, using her as a human shield. We couldn't fire so Agent Prentiss took matters in her own hands and forced both herself and Doyle to fall over the edge of the platform."

"Agent Hotchner refused to take the shot initially?" the CIA man asked sharply.

"Yes, because Agent Prentiss was in the way. He did not have a clean shot."

"And when he did?"

"It was to protect Agent Prentiss. Doyle refused to surrender and he clearly indicated he was going to do some harm, likely kill, Agent Prentiss."

"Yet, Agent Prentiss had managed to fight off Doyle and wound him," the Interpol interrogator said.

"But not incapacitate him," Reid responded calmly. "Doyle was still on his feet and a danger. Agent Hotchner had no choice but to shoot."

"Yes, a very effective and efficient shot through the head. Right between the eyes," the CIA man remarked dryly.

"I have always found Agent Hotchner to be very efficient in his actions and to be an extremely good shot," Reid returned blandly and without a hint of humor.

"Tell me Agent Reid," the CIA man switched topics. "How would you feel if Emily Prentiss rejoined your team after everything that has happened?"

"I would say it would be a good thing," was Reid's serene reply.

"Oh?" the CIA man said in a tone that dripped with disbelief. "I didn't get that impression from some of your colleagues."

"I cannot speak for anyone else, but myself. I truly believe that Emily Prentiss' contributions to our team were sorely missed. She brought a unique perspective and had skills none of could match. Her linguistics abilities for example. Like with all well functioning machines, if a certain part is missing, the machine may still be able to function, but not at the high capacity it would if all of its parts were working. Emily Prentiss is an integral part of the machine that makes up our BAU team. We all are. We can get by without her, but we would not have the same success with her. So yes, I would be very glad to see her back."

And nothing they said would shake Spencer Reid from that opinion.

* * *

To say Dave Rossi was hostile would have been an understatement.

"What kind of a dumb question is that? Of course Agent Hotchner followed protocol with Doyle. That son of a bitch was about to kill Emily and Hotch did what he had to protect her. Why are you wasting everyone's time asking dumbass questions like that?"

When queried about Emily Prentiss, Rossi showed equal disdain for their questions.

"Are you kidding? What moron wouldn't want Prentiss on their team? She's smart, got some incredible skills and she's proven time and again she has the team's back."

"You don't have any trust issues given her actions in the Doyle incident?"

Rossi stared directly at the panel and said in a firm tone. "Absolutely none. I trust Emily Prentiss with my life."

* * *

Where Aaron Hotchner was concerned, Derek Morgan repeated what others had said before him. There was absolutely no reason to question Agent Hotchner's actions in shooting Ian Doyle. He had acted accordingly to save someone else's life.

"And what are your feelings about Emily Prentiss?" the CIA man asked.

"I'm glad she's alive," Derek said promptly. "Something that would not be true if Agent Hotchner hadn't shot Doyle."

"So you would be open to her return to the team?" Frank Williams asked.

Derek hesitated. "I wouldn't disregard the chance to work with her again, but it would be up to Prentiss and Hotch to make that decision."

The CIA man sensed Morgan's hesitancy. "But what do you feel, Agent Morgan? She was, I believe, a frequent partner of yours in the field. Partnerships require a lot of trust, more trust than many personal relationships. Do you feel you could partner with her again?"

Morgan hesitated for a moment and then answered truthfully. "I don't know."

The CIA man looked at him for a moment and then said quietly. "Thank you for your honesty, Agent Morgan. You're dismissed."

* * *

"I hope you at least brought me some chocolate."

Emily's voice surprised Derek. She looked like she was sleeping but that was obviously not the case. He had been standing by the door, watching the still figure on the bed, trying to decide whether he should disturb her or not. The decision was made for him, like so many others have before.

Morgan walked towards the bed and showed Emily the box of imported dark chocolates, one of her favorites. He set the gold wrapped box on her lap as she sat up and helped her adjust her pillows. He watched her carefully, noting she was moving with what appeared to be a minimum of discomfort. It would appear that she was at least physically healing.

"Thanks," she murmured as she opened up the box of chocolates. She offered them to him, but Morgan declined, not having much of a sweet tooth. He watched as Prentiss did what she always did, carefully contemplate which one she should pick, but not touching them. She held the box up to her eye level and then tipped it every which way she could as if the more angles from which she could examine the chocolates, the better able she would be to determine what was in the center of each.

It still amused Derek to see her do this and he had to admit, she did have an uncanny ability to choose what she liked. Maybe it was just having consumed so many of these tasty morsels before.

"I had them prepare a box, so I picked all the ones you prefer," Morgan said when she continued to examine the box after several minutes had elapsed. "You're not going to get one you don't like."

"Yeah, but I'm feeling in the mood for a dolce de leche," Emily murmured. Her fingers hovered over one chocolate in the center and then abruptly moved towards another in the corner. She picked it up, took a sniff and then bit into it. Her eyes closed in satisfaction and from the bit of toffee colored filling that clung to the corner of her mouth, Morgan knew she had gotten the one she wanted.

"I've missed these," Emily practically moaned as she finished off her chocolate.

"I guess hiding out playing dead makes it hard to get your chocolate fix," Morgan said in a snippy tone. He winced internally, not wanting to start out this way.

Her eyes opened and she regarded him steadily. Then she licked her lips and grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped her fingers and mouth. She set aside the box of chocolates and then gave her full attention to Morgan.

"Let's have it," she replied calmly. "Go ahead, get it off your chest. Say what's on your mind."

"And you think that's going to solve everything?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"It's a start and it's better than you acting passively aggressively," she replied in a steady voice. "Here, I'll start for you. You're upset because I kept my past a secret from you. You're angry because I didn't tell you what was going on when we were investigating the murders. And you're really pissed off because I faked my death."

"Don't you treat this as a joke, Prentiss," Morgan warned her as he began to pace in the room.

"I'm not, but I'm also not going to sit here and watch you stew about it. Spit it out, Morgan so we can try to move forward. Unless you don't want to?"

He stopped his pacing and his shoulders slumped. He suddenly appeared smaller and weary. "I want to. God, Emily, I really do, but, it just feels like everything I know about you, it's all a lie. How am I supposed to know if what I saw working with you for all those years really was you or was it another persona you adopted like Lauren Reynolds."

She sighed quietly. "That was me, Morgan. I don't think I've ever been more myself than during my time at the BAU." She took a deep breath. "My time working with the CIA is simply a part of my past, but it is in the past. I can only repeat why I did what I did. I couldn't say anything to you because it was classified and I couldn't risk Declan's safety or anyone else's. Was I scared about how you all would react to my past? Yes." Her mouth twisted into a wry and knowing smile. "And looks like I had good reason for being worried about that."

"What do you mean by that?" Morgan asked defensively.

"Oh come on, Morgan, I saw your face and Hotch's when Doyle accused you two of thinking I was a whore." She was angry now, almost sneering at him and Morgan realized that while he and the others may have felt betrayed by Emily, she too was harboring some resentment towards them. "I am a profiler after all. I knew you would all judge me and I was right."

"We didn't think-," he began to protest and then saw the look she gave him. "Okay! You're right! It pissed me off to think you slept with that bastard."

"Yeah, but if I was a man and Doyle a woman, you wouldn't have thought twice about it," she spat out. She leaned back into her pillows and crossed her arms over her chest. "If going to you meant also facing your judgmental crap, well, solo had its appeal."

"So you're saying we're to blame?" Morgan asked her incredulously.

"No, just that you weren't as viable or as great of an option as you think. After all, you guys did fail to stop Doyle."

"Because you withheld information!"

"What about after I was gone? Did you guys find him then? Any trace of him?" Emily challenged. "For God's sakes, Morgan, Doyle was not something you guys could deal with."

That stopped him and he stared at her. "You really think we couldn't handle Doyle? Emily, we could have if we stuck together!"

"If we stuck together we would have been sitting ducks," she snapped back. She took a deep breath, slightly clutching her side when she felt a twinge of pain. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry we all had to go through this. I am not sorry for trying to protect you from a monster like Doyle to the best of my abilities."

Morgan stared at her. This conversation was not going the way he had expected. He had expected apologies and yes, some begging for forgiveness. While he was given some sort of apology, Prentiss seemed to be set in her belief that she was right. A little voice in his head asked him, _Maybe she is right. You didn't get yourself out of that Doyle mess, Emily did._ _Could you and the team really handle someone like Doyle or would you have wound up dead like those other agents and their families? Would your mother and sisters have been killed? Jack and Henry?_

An uncomfortable feeling in Morgan's stomach told him that there was a high likelihood that their own families would have been annihilated had they helped Prentiss, something she had warned would likely have happened.

But he wasn't quite ready to forgive and forget and he told her that. "I'm not ready to forget what happened, Prentiss. There are still some trust issues between us, but…I understand your reasons better."

She nodded her head, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "That's all I expected."

"But I think we also have to talk about something else," Derek said as he sat down on her bed. He tilted his head to the side. "You're angry with us too. Is it because you think we failed you in Boston?"

That cool, smooth mask he remembered so well slipped over her face and it didn't take a profiler to see Emily retreating from the topic.

"Look, we screwed up in Boston," Derek began. "We didn't catch onto all the clues you left for us, we let our personal feelings screw up the investigation so I can understand if you feel we failed you."

"Water under the bridge, Derek," was her clipped reply.

"No, you don't get to do that," Derek said as he peered closely at Prentiss. "You're pissed off at us. Look, I understand that and you've got a right to be. You were relying on us and we failed. Em, that's part of the reason why we're all so upset. It's not all because we're mad at you, we're mad at ourselves. Hell, how many times have we've managed to save victims, but when it came to someone important to us? We act like idiots and fail miserably."

"Like I said, Derek, water under the bridge." Her voice was cool, and impersonal and if he hadn't been mad before, Morgan definitely was now. Contrite Prentiss. Angry Prentiss. Snappy Prentiss. Even PMS-ing Prentiss, he could deal with all that. But Dispassionate Prentiss? That just told him she was drawing back from him and the rest of her family. They didn't go through this Hell just to have her leave them again in a different way.

"Don't do that, Em. Don't lock it away," Morgan warned her. "Dammit! Now is not the time to compartmentalize! You wanted honesty from us, we expect the same."

"I am being honest, Derek," she replied gently. "I want it over with. The past is the past, all of it. I'm tired of being held hostage by it or holding someone else hostage for their mistakes." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against her pillows. "I'm just tired, Derek. I think it's probably time for you to leave."

He gazed at her in frustration as she shut him out in more ways than simply closing her eyes. After a moment's struggle, he said a quiet goodbye and left the room. He didn't stop walking until he was outside the hospital, breathing in the cold fall air.

Derek paused on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. He had hoped that some of the air between them would have been cleared up with this visit, but it felt even more of a mess than it was before. He did know one thing, Emily's relationship and trust with the team weren't the only things that needed to be repaired. Her faith and trust in them have been shaken as well and Derek wondered how deep that went.

Morgan knew that if they didn't fix things on both sides, that it was likely Emily would simply leave them again, and this time, she would not come back.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I have to say that this part took longer than expected because a certain character decided he wasn't going to do what I had originally planned. So I kept writing, thinking I was going to rein him in and it'll all get back on track with what I had initially sketched out. Didn't happen that way so I finally acquiesced to the direction this character wanted. When you read this part, you'll know who I'm talking about. **

It would surprise many that Aaron Hotchner did not indulge too much in self-reflection. He was a decisive man. A man who made the hard and necessary decisions and was willing to live with the consequences. Such a man could not afford to agonize over his choices or he would be frozen, unable to act. There were only a few times in his life where he had obsessed over his choices and worried incessantly over them. His decision to stay with the BAU that ultimately put the final nail in his marriage. His refusal to make a deal with George Foyet. This was one of those times and it involved Emily Prentiss.

Jack fell asleep more easily than he had the last two days. Hotch hoped his son will be able to sleep through the night, but was prepared to have the child crawl into his bed some time in the wee hours. He made sure the hall light was left on, just in case.

He walked slowly down the stairs into the living room. About a year ago, thinking his son needed something more than a two bedroom apartment, he had purchased this small house in Arlington. It still had far too much room for the two of them, but for some reason it "spoke" to Hotch. Maybe it was because of the large yard in the back or the trellis along the side of the house where a pink climbing rose seemed to bloom constantly. Maybe it was the large oak tree out front that shaded the yard and the house. Whatever it was, both Hotch and Jack knew it was the house for them.

Yet, something seemed to be missing, or rather someone. A woman. Not that the house needed the stereotypical "woman's touch". Hotch didn't think that way, but the house didn't seem complete for some reason. Hotch wasn't exactly sure what it was until Jack innocently pointed something out.

"Is Emmy coming to see our new house?" he asked his father.

Hotch froze for a second. He never seemed to have the courage to tell his son that the pretty lady he called Emmy was never coming to see them again, that she was in heaven with his mommy. He had simply said that Emmy was away and maybe they would see her again someday and left it at that. He was careful not to speak about her to Jack and hoped as the boy grew older, he would simply forget about her.

The child hadn't.

Hotch had forgotten that Jack had some of the photos from his birthday party that Emily had attended. Jack remembered "Emmy" also from the times he had seen her at the BAU or she had dropped by their apartment to speak to Hotch about work. Jack asked about her constantly, wondering if she would visit them again soon. Hotch hadn't realized Prentiss had made such an impression on his son.

But then again, she had a way of doing that.

"Jack," he had begun slowly. "I told you, Emmy is away and won't be able to visit us for a long time."

"But she has to come to our new house, Daddy! Everyone else has been! Auntie JJ and Penny and Uncle Morgan, Dave and Reid. Emmy has to come back! Look! There's even a room for her!" He had dragged his father to the downstairs guest room.

"Buddy," Hotch sighed. "That's the guest room. It's for when family and friends visit. It's not really a room for anyone specific."

"But I've made it Emmy's room! See!" Jack showed him a space by the bed.

Unbeknownst to Hotch, at some point in time Jack had taped one of the photos taken at that birthday party. It was one of the ones where he and his son were with Emily. Jack sat on her lap and Hotch had leaned in close to her for the photo, their heads tilted towards each other. It struck him then how much they _had_ looked like a family. It also startled him to see the wide smile on his own face.

"Emmy said she would stay with us when we got a bigger house!" Jack cried out excitedly.

Hotch stared blankly at his son for a few seconds as he tried to figure out what Jack meant. Realization hit him when he remembered a fragment of a conversation at Jack's birthday party.

It had been winding down and everyone was packing up to go home. Emily was helping Jack get into his sweater as the temperature had dropped with the setting sun. As she was buttoning him up, Jack had asked, "Emmy, will you come home with us?"

Emily had stared wide-eyed at Jack as Hotch nearly dropped the cooler he was holding. She looked at him for help in responding, but he could only stand there dumbly, never having been in this situation before. Jack was generally shy around adults, so for him to even pose such a question was an entirely new experience for Hotch.

"Well, uh, Jack, I can't," she had stumbled.

"But why not?" He had started to play with a strand of her hair and he pouted. "I like you, Emmy. Don't you like me? Don't you like Daddy?"

Her mouth had quirked slightly at his questions. "I like you both very much, but I can't go home with you because…er…," she threw Hotch another look, clearly asking, _Help me out here_, but he could only stare dumbly at them. "I can't go home with you because, hmmm, your apartment is too small!" She smiled at him, relief in her eyes. "There's not enough room, honey. Where would I sleep?"

"Oh," frowned Jack. "You can sleep with Daddy! He has a big bed!"

"Jack!" Hotch's voice had come out in a higher pitch than anyone had heard before. He heard a strangled laugh behind him and turned around to glare at Rossi who had stopped to listen to the conversation. The older man simply snickered at him and moved on. Hotch turned back around to see Emily's face turn a pretty shade of pink and for a moment, he had an image of her, her face flushed and happy as she lay in his bed with him beside her. He shook his head quickly to try to erase the image from his mind and heard her say.

"Uh, well, it's not just a bed I'll need, Jack," she stammered. "I mean where would all my stuff go? And I have a cat. He'll need room too."

"You have a cat?" Jack's interest was piqued. "What type of cat? What color is he? Does he sleep on your bed?" Suddenly, he was off the topic of Emily going home with them, more interested in hearing stories about Sergio.

He saw the look of relief on Emily's face as she kept the little boy preoccupied with stories about her cat. She took his hand and the two of them walked ahead of Hotch as she led the boy back to the BAU leader's car.

Hotch stared at them as they walked ahead of him and as he watched Emily walk slowly, keeping pace with his son, a part of him couldn't help but want her to come home with them both too.

In the past few days, he thought a lot of those times and the years he had know Emily Prentiss. She had been constantly in his thoughts the past two years, thoughts that were mainly about regrets and might have been's because he had _not_ been his usual self and had not acted decisively where she was concerned. Or more correctly, he had made the wrong decision and had bitterly regretted it in the two years past. But now, by some miracle, he realized a second chance was before him.

As Hotch sat in his living room, he knew what was missing from the house, why it felt so incomplete. _She_ had not been there.

He understood Rossi's questions, comments and certain looks in recent months. Hotch himself hadn't fully grasped the extent of his feelings for Emily Prentiss, but after these last few days and her miraculous resurrection, he could no longer ignore them either. Was it love? He wasn't quite ready or certain to call it that, but it was definitely deep and important to him.

Hotch had come to a decision and vowed he wouldn't make the same mistake again. He simply wouldn't drift along with the status quo because she could slip away from him again and this time, she may not come back.

* * *

**A/N 2: Yes, it was Hotch who hijacked the next couple of parts because I honestly did not plan to have Hotch "realize" so soon how much Emily meant to him. He would still be protective of her and want her back on his team but he would reason it would be because she was his friend and family, not admitting yet it might be something deeper. But he took over. I swear, I tried to get it back on track, but he refused, pointing out that he wouldn't delude himself so long, not if he's had two years to stew over it, so there you have it. The good news is that the next few parts will likely go up pretty quickly because I had tried to write Hotch out of this course, but he kept fighting me to back towards it.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I told you the next few parts will be coming a little faster. This story is actually coming to an end. Depending on how I split up the chapters, there's probably only about five to six more parts left. However, that'll just be the end of the first story. I'm thinking this will be a trilogy, maybe there'll be four stories. Again, it'll depend on how I split things up. I have to say, I really like this part, but it is a short one which is why it's coming so soon after the last update. Reviews and feedback are welcomed!**

Aaron Hotchner stared dispassionately at the panel of men before him. He noted the presence of the transcriber and another woman who sat a little behind the panel, on a chair in the corner. She had not introduced herself and the men before him offered no explanation for her presence or clues to her identity. She took no notes, but simply sat there, observing and listening. She was dressed modestly and plainly in a grey skirt suit with a white ruffled blouse. She was in her mid-fifties with dark hair pulled back into a French twist. Her ethnicity eluded Hotch. Her dark hair and a very pale shade of olive skin hinted at a possible Latina heritage, but the green eyes and shape of them spoke of at least a dozen other possible ethnicities. Instinctively, he knew that the power in the room likely belonged to her. They wouldn't just have anyone observing in this debriefing.

"Thank you for coming in, Agent Hotchner," the CIA man began. He ignored the sardonic twist in Hotch's lips silently saying, "Did I have a choice?"

"We understand you and your team have been through a lot in the last few days, the past two years in fact. We would like to begin with the events that led up to your kidnapping."

Succinctly, Hotch related the events. His remarks were clear, concise and unadorned with any extraneous details. His voice held steady, even as he related the various taunts Doyle had hurled at him. The panel interrupted him only a few times to ask for clarification on a detail, but for the most part, allowed him to talk uninterrupted. His voice faltered though when he began to tell them about the beating Emily took to protect him. For a moment, he was lost in that moment again, reliving every blow that had fallen on Emily's vulnerable body.

"Do you need a moment, Agent Hotchner?" Deputy Director Williams of the FBI asked in a gentle tone. He looked slightly shaken from Hotch's story. Rossi and Morgan had not provided as many details and Hotch's obvious distress over what happened and his natural gift of storytelling had affected the man.

Hotch gathered himself and shook his head. "No. It's alright." He continued with his story, his voice steady again, a flat look in his eyes. When he mentioned the man who offered to help them, the CIA man looked sharply at him.

"Who was he? Did you get a name? Can you describe him?" The questions came out in rapid succession.

"I don't know and no, I don't recall his name ever being mentioned. He was in his late 30s, about six feet, Irish accent, dark hair and blue eyes. If you have any photos for me to look at I can try to identify him or work with a sketch artist."

The CIA man peered intently at Hotch and then nodded his head. "Continue."

Hotch took up his story again, still steady and calmed. His voice faltered once more when he talked about watching Emily falling over the edge of the platform, taking Doyle with her, but he quickly brought himself back.

"I saw Doyle getting up and shouted for him to not move. Prentiss was still stunned from the fall and not moving. Doyle moved over her, intent on killing her. I didn't have a clear shot. Any bullet likely would have gone through him and entered her. Somehow, Emily managed to find a bit of the railing that had fallen with them and she struck him. Doyle moved away from her, providing me with an opportunity to fire."

"He was wounded, you still believed he was a threat?" the Interpol man asked.

"He was still on his feet. Doyle had made it clear that if he had anything to say about it, Emily would not leave that warehouse alive." His eyes became darker and for a moment, the other people in the room caught a glimpse of something so powerful and threatening, they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Then it was gone, replaced by Hotch's usual impassive look.

"I believe had Doyle been left alive, he would have killed Emily Prentiss."

The panel regarded Hotch carefully, each thinking different thoughts. Whether they were correctly reading the FBI agent, they weren't sure because Aaron Hotchner allowed no emotion, no hint of his true thoughts and feelings be expressed on his face.

"What are your feelings about Emily Prentiss?" the CIA man suddenly rapped out.

Hotch sent him a piercing glared. "Sir?" The one word held the bite of an artic wind.

"Your feelings towards Emily Prentiss? After all she deceived each of you, about her past, about her 'death'."

"Emily Prentiss' past is irrelevant. There was nothing criminal about her actions and her experience and work in the CIA have only made her the exemplary agent I know and have worked with for nearly five years. As for her faked 'death', Emily Prentiss did what she has always done, she put herself in the line of fire to save others. She has done that before for her team mates, for potential victims and the innocents. That is who she is, she protects those she loves and cares about and people who cannot defend themselves. Qualities about Emily Prentiss she should feel no shame over and qualities I can only admire and celebrate."

The CIA man's lips thinned into a single line. "And how would you feel about having her back on your team? Under your supervision? I understand her initial introduction to your team was…rocky."

"Entirely my fault," Hotch replied evenly. "I would not have made that mistake had I bothered to actually get to know Emily Prentiss. As for having her back on my team, I would insist on it. I will do everything I have to, to bring her back to the BAU."

"Not everyone on your team feels that way. What will you do about potential strife among your team members?"

"My team has been through a lot these past few days, the past few years. I am confident with a little bit of time they will be as pleased and anxious to have Emily back on our team."

"I don't share your confidence, Agent Hotchner," the CIA man replied.

"With all due respect sir, you don't know my team."

The CIA man's eyes narrowed, but he allowed that to slide. He glanced down at his notes and then nodded his head sharply. "Thank you, Agent Hotchner, I think we're through."

Hotch nodded and got up to leave. He was at the door when the CIA man suddenly called out,

"Agent Hotchner, don't be surprised if Ms. Prentiss decides not to come back to the BAU."

Hotch's head snapped around and he sent the CIA man a sharp, piercing look. The other man simply returned it with a bland stare. Hotch stared at him for a moment and then spun around, slamming the door behind him.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: For those following this story, the reason this has slowed down a little is because I'm trying to finish up my assignment for the CM Silver Screen Fan Fic challenge, (plus I've also had some business trips thrown at me so I'm traveling a bit and its cutting into my free writing time). That story has a deadline of July 31 where it needs to be actually finished. So "Reckoning" and "A Rose By Any Other Name" have taken a bit of a backseat for a while. However, readers of this story should be happy to know it's almost done and with my Silver Screen story needing to be done by July 31, it looks like I'll have two of my three stories done by mid-August at least. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy.**

"Thanks, Dad," Emily smiled as her father helped her into a chair. She sighed and looked around. "Well, it's nice to get a different view of the room."

Robert Jones chuckled and then looked fondly at his only child. She was looking better, some of the bruises on her face having faded, her movements much more fluid and assured. She had even managed to shower that day. She wore a pair of black yoga pants and red wrap top and her hair was brushed and shiny, cascading down her back in long waves.

Jones' smile faded and Emily knew bad news was coming.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"I got some bad news for you, Sweetie Bird."

Her mouth quirked at the childhood nickname. One time when her father was coming back from a "business trip", he had brought her a child's purse that was bright yellow with daisies and Tweety Bird on it. She carried that purse around with her everywhere earning the affectionate nickname "Sweetie Bird" from her father.

"They're going after Aaron Hotchner for shooting Doyle."

Emily sucked in her breath. She had been expecting this given what she had heard about the debriefings. "On what grounds? Everyone has said it was a justified shooting. Even Easter and Torre. What proof do they have?"

"You know they won't need proof, they just need to dirty up Hotchner a little and it'll be enough to end his career. And despite what you think about the man, there are enough questionable things he's done in the past and things his team members have done that he's covered up. Need I remind you of Foyet, Spencer Reid's drug problem and Elle Greenaway. Any more dirt, and Hotchner is finished."

She peered at him. "What do they want? It's obvious Hotch is simply a bargaining chip."

Jones' jaw tightened and he drew up the other chair to sit next to his daughter. "It's you, Emily. They want you back at the Agency and they're willing to drop the Hotchner investigation if you do it."

"I don't want to go back! Why do they even want me?" Emily cried out.

"Doyle's organization is still going strong. The only success they've had against it has been your work the past year. Emily, when Doyle was captured, his group didn't fall apart. It kept going, but in a much more covert and successful fashion. Someone kept it going for all those years and with Doyle now gone, they've got free rein. Whoever was in charge when Doyle was in prison, is smart, a lot smarter than Doyle was." He leaned back in his chair and looked intently at his daughter. "It takes a lot to escape from a North Korean prison. We're talking extensive resources. Someone marshaled those resources, organized them into an effective machine and they're still out there. You know at least three potential terrorist cells in Europe and Asia have ties to his group. In this case, cutting off the head of the snake didn't kill it. It just grew another."

"But I don't know anything about this new head," Emily protested. "I don't see what use I'll be."

"Because you're the only one around with any knowledge, at all. Everyone else with historical knowledge is dead. Doyle's replacement has changed things but he doesn't seem to have changed it completely. What you know is still extremely valuable. Plus you're one of the best damn profilers around, making you even more desirable to the Agency." Jones stood up abruptly and began pacing the room. "You're too good of an agent and too good of a profiler for the CIA to lose, Em. And there's something else they want your help on."

"What?"

"The mole. We still don't know who it is and we suspect he or she has been operating for years. In fact, the mole may have been the one who sold the information about Doyle's whereabouts to his gang. Ever wonder how he got out of a North Korean prison? Not an easy thing to do."

"How much damage do you think this mole has done over the years?" Emily asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"Too much," Jones growled out. "And we can't pin point what agency he might be with. All the major international ones have had breaches in the last five years. We just know whoever it is, he's highly placed."

"I don't see what good I can be to them in catching the mole. I've been out of the game for years and there doesn't seem to be any indication this person was ever in the FBI."

"They need your profiling skills and…," he paused, but Emily knew what he was thinking.

"My duplicitous mind able to figure out how to betray someone?" she asked with a slight sneer on her face.

"More like your ability to crawl into someone's head and think the way they do." His mouth quirked into a small smile. "You've also embarrassed quite a few agency heads too, Sweetie Bird. Your trick to thwart the mole during this whole investigation has been the only time we've gotten any upper hand on this person."

"Well, they can't force me to return. They can't make me work for them," her voice trembled slightly.

"No," sighed her father. "But they will make things uncomfortable for your Agent Hotchner, possibly end his career."

"Can't you do anything?"

"It's out of my hands, Emily. Saville is in charge now."

Emily sighed and closed her eyes. With Saville calling the shots, there was nothing even her father could do. He was the number three at the CIA, but Saville was the number two. She gazed out the window. "Do they want me as an agent or only on the desk?"

"You'll eventually be asked to go in the field. You're too talented of an agent not to be. Plus what better agent to use on a mission than one whose death was heavily publicized?" he said. He looked out the window too. "What do you want to do?"

"Hotch doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve being a casualty of my past or a pawn of the CIA's machinations," Emily murmured. She shook her head. "I don't see what choice there is in the matter, I can't let Hotch be punished for this."

Jones stared at his daughter. "Em, you understand what you're doing to protect this man? There's a good chance they'll send you back out into the field. Doyle's group must know about you now. You'll be on assignment, many times without any type of backup."

"If Doyle's men still want me dead, maybe it's best that I am away from Hotch and the others." She paused, thinking about her options and shook her head. "I can't ask Hotch or the team to make any more sacrifices for me."

"Yet you can for them? Emily, we're just talking about a man's job. This is your life."

"The BAU _is_ Hotch's life. It's not just a job to him, Dad. It's his calling. If that's taken away from him, well, he won't be Hotch anymore. I know it's difficult to understand, but I can't have him, or anyone else on the team, pay for my past." She gazed earnestly at him. "Besides, you said yourself, I'm too good of an agent. Maybe I can set up some parameters for my work with the Agency if Saville is that desperate to have me back."

He gazed thoughtfully at his daughter, having never heard her speak about a man in such tones before. Emily was willing to sacrifice everything to protect this Hotchner. While on paper he looked impressive, Jones could not forget the first time they met and the instant hostility both men felt for the other. On both their parts it was fueled by a need to protect Emily. Robert knew behind that need was his love for his daughter, but what was Hotchner's motivation? A sense of duty or something else? And if it was the latter, did Emily return those feelings? She was definitely exhibiting the same type of protective instinct towards him that Hotchner had shown towards her. It was a question he would like an answer to, but he knew any direct inquiry would be met with stony silence from Emily. He would have to find out another way. For now, they needed to concentrate on the more immediate problem. "You'll be under Saville, not me. I don't know how much she'll bargain."

"Well, if she wants me back at the Agency, it'll be on my terms." Emily's face was set and resolute.

Robert Jones gazed at his daughter for a few seconds and slowly nodded his head. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry I can't help you further, Sweetie Bird."

"Its okay, Daddy," she said softly. Her eyes hardened. "I'm a big girl, and I know how to deal with the likes of Marina Saville."

"He's going to want to know why you aren't coming back to the BAU, your Agent Hotchner."

"I'll handle Hotch and he's not 'my' Agent Hotchner," she corrected him.

A smile quirked around his lips. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, Emily."


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: And we're back to this story which is truly almost done. At least the first part in what is probably a trilogy. We shall see. Thank you for everyone's patience, but I just had to get "Notorious" finished and it is! I hope folks are still checking out this story. No Hotch/Prentiss action in this part, but there will be a lot of it in the next one. Please leave a review if you can. Thank you!**

The knock at her door was polite, but it filled Emily with a sense of dread. She straightened her spine and ran her hands down the front of her yoga pants before she called out for the person to come in.

The woman who walked in was on Emily's mental list of anticipated visitors and in some ways she was relieved it was her and not Hotch. She felt her spine stiffen even more and her feet settled more firmly on the ground as she prepared to confront Marina Saville.

Saville was older than Emily, but younger than Prentiss' parents. In her fifties, she was still a striking woman, but as Emily also knew, she was a brilliant undercover agent who could effortlessly blend in with her surroundings when needed but also command the attention of an audience of hundreds. She was highly intelligent, coldly ruthless and completely loyal to her country and her role in protecting it…by whatever means necessary.

She was also the woman who recruited Emily for the Agency.

"Emily," she said in a husky voice that seemed at odds with her petite stature. She was no more than five foot three inches and even in high heels, she still wasn't quite as tall as Prentiss who wore only slippers. Yet, Saville seemed taller, more imposing. "It's so good to see you up and around."

"Ma'am," Prentiss acknowledged with a nod.

One corner of Saville's mouth tilted upwards. "Oh please, we know you mean no respect when you address someone as 'ma'am' in that tone and we have known each other far too long to play such games." She sat down gracefully on Emily's bed, delicately crossing her ankles. "You know why I'm here. We want you back at the Agency."

"Why?" Emily asked bluntly.

Saville smiled at her. "A multitude of reasons, all of which I'm sure your father as already listed for you."

"And none of them were convincing," Emily snorted. She eyed Saville closely. "Is this really about my skills or are you just trying to stick it to my father again?"

Saville sighed. She and Robert Jones had been locked in a locked in a decades-old battle of who would eventually control the CIA. At this point, she was winning, having been placed in the number two spot while he was in the third one. The biggest blow she had ever delivered to him though, was recruiting his daughter out of college to be an agent. Robert Jones had never forgiven her for that. While Saville did have ulterior motives for bringing Emily into the Agency, she also recognized the young woman's talents and potential and had never been dissatisfied with Emily's work. Saville shook her head. "Emily, I've always wanted you as an agent because you _are_ that good. Frankly, I think your talents are being wasted in the Bureau."

"You don't think catching serial killers is worthwhile?" Emily snorted.

"I'm saying other people can do that job," the other woman replied calmly. "Agent Hotchner and his team do very well in it. That is where their talents lie. You have so much more to offer. Considering the complete mess they made of the Doyle situation two years ago, it's clear they don't have the abilities you do."

"That wasn't entirely their fault," the brunette mumbled.

"Really?" Saville arched an eyebrow. "I read the reports, including the ones they wrote up themselves. The trail you left was quite obvious yet they wasted valuable time floundering around." She leaned forward. "Tell me you haven't had your doubts about their ability to watch your back?" She smiled knowingly when Emily didn't reply. "I see you have."

"So? They're not Agency material. What does that matter?"

"Their talents matter if they're working with you on a case, Emily. I sat in on all of the debriefings. I have a good sense of how your former team feels towards you and I have to say, not all of them have a positive opinion."

Saville was not telling her anything she hadn't expected, but to still hear it was painful. "Of course not, they feel betrayed. Hurt."

"And such feelings lead to mistakes in the field. You already saw what happened when they allowed their personal emotions towards you bleed into their work. Do you really think it won't happen again? Do you really think they won't mess up again and you'll be paying the price?"

Saville saw something on Emily's face and she smiled knowingly. "Ahhh, but some of this has already occurred to you? Perhaps even before Doyle." She nodded. "That's the curse of being a CIA operative. So many times we've been forced to operate alone with no one watching our backs that when we do have someone, we're never certain if they'll be up to the job." She looked at Emily seriously. "I don't think Agent Hotchner and his team are up to that task, Emily. I've been over your time at the Bureau. You've been injured more times when your friends allegedly have had your back than your entire time with us at the Agency when you were often alone.

"Emily, I know your introduction into Agent Hotchner's unit was rough. I understand he made some groundless accusations against you. It laid the foundation of distrust, both on their side and yours." She smiled faintly. "I know you Emily, and if you had fully trusted Hotchner and his team, you would have told them something about Doyle a lot sooner, security clearances be damned."

Emily kept her face impassive, but Marina Saville did not get where she was today without being able to read even the best poker faces. Add to that, how well she knew Emily Prentiss, the younger woman had no chance of fooling this operative.

"So the trust isn't fully there on your side as well," Saville nodded. She smiled wryly. "We did train you not to trust people. To rely on yourself. You are more CIA than you are FBI, Emily. Come back."

"Or what?" Prentiss asked in a hard voice and a raised eyebrow. "You ruin a good man's career? Smear his reputation?"

"You know I don't operate that way. Everything I say about Aaron Hotchner would be 100% true. You've covered enough for him and his team, Emily. Why do you continue to do so? What has that loyalty gotten you?"

"They've helped and protect me."

"When? You've protected them countless times, but when have they protected you?" Saville leaned forward, her eyes intense. She could be a mesmerizing woman when she wanted to. Emily had no doubt had she wished Saville could easily become some cult leader and would attract many followers. "They weren't there in Boston. How much did they help you with Matthew Benton?" At Emily's sharp look she smiled. "Of course I know what happened there. I also know that Agent Hotchner dragged his feet as did many of your so called 'friends'. Emily, they will never show you the same loyalty you've given them over the years and to them, Doyle will be an excuse to justify their second-class treatment of you in comparison to how they treat each other."

"Are you finished?" Emily asked coldly. "I will come back, but only under certain conditions and only because I am trying to protect my _friends_." Her emphasis on the last word only caused Marina to raise her eyebrow, but she remained silent. "You leave Hotch and all the others completely alone. I will advise and consult, but I am done with field work until I say otherwise. Plus I want to set up in another city. I don't want to be in DC anymore."

Saville tilted her head slightly. "Where do you wish to be headquartered? New York? Los Angeles? Or San Francisco? Those are you three options if you don't want to be in DC."

Emily thought for a moment and then said, "San Francisco."

Saville nodded. "Reasonable terms. I really wouldn't expect you to go back into the field until you're ready, but know that we would eventually need you to go back out there in some capacity."

Emily nodded. "Two years. I'll give you two years."

"And then what will you do?" Saville asked, the limited amount of time irrelevant to her.

Her laugh was humorless and hollow. "If I'm still alive, I just want to stop. Just completely stop and not do another damn thing."

* * *

**A/N: The reason I bring up Emily's trust issues is because I'm not 100% certain she does fully trust the others. In as late of an episode as "Compromising Position" in Season 6 when she's about to go into that singles bar to distract the UNSUB, she says to Hotch, "You better have my back." At this point in their relationships, would Emily even need to say that? And then there's Hotch's soft reply, "Of course." Like he was a little surprised, maybe even hurt, she had to even say those words. And then she doesn't wait for Hotch and the others, she takes care of the killer herself. Yes, probably because there was no time to wait, but could it also be that she's not absolute sure the others will be there? Personally, if there is any hesitation on Emily's part, I trace it back to how so many of the team let her down in "Demonology". It was an interesting thread that I wanted to explore.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Sorry, not quite the Emily/Aaron conversation, but close to it. I thought Hotch needed to finally talk to Saville himself. Yes, Saville is supposed to be worse than Strauss, because while Strauss will bureaucrat you to death, Saville is a manipulator. In the last part, she said she would never lie and she doesn't, but she will twist, confuse and plant seeds of distrust and doubts in people. Sometimes, you let a little inference slip, let it take hold in someone's mind and let them nurture it themselves and 9 times out of 10, they'll develop it into something far worse than what it really is. That's what Saville does and what she's trying to do with our heroes.**

Now that the debriefing was over, he could finally see Emily again. It had been five days since he last saw her. First Jack's anxiety had kept him home and then he was barred from Prentiss' room until his own debriefing took place. Even as he spent that time reassuring his son and comforting him, Hotch's mind was also on the woman that up until a week ago, he thought he would never see again.

Hotch was always an honest man, especially when it came to examining his own flaws and behavior. He knew that in the past two years Prentiss had been gone that he had discovered his feelings ran deeper for her than mere friendship. He wasn't certain if it was love, but he knew he wanted something more and for the last two years had mourned what might have been. Now he found himself with a second chance, an opportunity to see where things could lead.

Of course, he wasn't certain what Emily might feel or think. Perhaps she only did see him as her supervisor and friend. He hoped to change that. In fact, he was making it his mission to change it. Once Aaron Hotchner decided what he wanted, he went after it until he got it. It was what made him a good agent and what he knew would make him a good man for Emily.

In a way, he looked forward to the pursuit, the chance to woo her. He suspected she hadn't been romanced and pampered much by men in the past. He wanted that opportunity to show her he would cherish her, care for her and treat her as she deserved to be treated.

There was the issue of the BAU and the fact he would be her supervisor. It would be tricky to navigate the situation and if the whole thing goes to Hell, even more difficult to deal with the fallout. However, Hotch was not going to let her go somewhere else, she was coming back to his team where he could keep an eye on her. He had this fear that if she went away, he would never see her again. Even now, only being separated from her for a few days, he couldn't quell the anxiety that she might be gone.

Hotch hurried down the corridors of Bethesda Naval Hospital towards Emily's room. The reports he had been getting from the other members of the team let him know that Emily had been healing well, physically at least. From some of the comments and non-comments a few members had shared or tried to hide from him, he gathered that there was still some hesitation among some of his people, and from what Rossi and Morgan told him, Emily herself had some reservations.

Hotch had told the panel that he believed whatever issues there might be, they would work them out. When he had said that, he truly believed it, but he hadn't considered Emily herself might have issues with them. That seed of doubt the CIA agent put in his mind only grew when Rossi told him outright that he thought Emily _did_ have trust issues with the rest of the team and Morgan alluded to the same.

He remembered what Doyle had told Emily, how they had viewed her work; that they thought of her as a whore. She had seen the guilt in his eyes and knew Doyle wasn't lying. Why wouldn't she be hesitant about coming back to a work environment where her own supervisor would even think to call her a prostitute? He needed to convince her to come back, that he did not look at her in that way and that he understood her actions.

But did he really? Did he accept what she had done? The secrets she had kept from him? The five days away from her had given him time to think not only about his own feelings, but about Emily's actions. Hotch did feel he understood and accepted what she had done. As for not confiding in him, well, he wasn't one to encourage confidences, at least not with her. The one time she had come to him for help, he had only put barriers between them, always concerned with protecting the team when all she really wanted was someone in her corner. He had failed her in the Matthew Benton case and aside from Dave, they had all failed to provide her with the help that she saw being readily given to everyone else when they were in trouble. No wonder she felt she couldn't share this part of her past with them.

He was to blame for inadvertently creating that environment or the perception that environment existed. His need to abide by the rules, to make sure every "T" was crossed, every "I" dotted had set up a rigid environment that didn't encourage anyone, especially someone as private as Emily, to come to him with problems. Hotch vowed that would all change, not just for her, but for everyone else on the team.

Being a leader meant more than protecting the team and making the hard decisions. It meant nurturing them, caring for them, and opening himself up to them as well. How could he expect Emily to confide and trust in him when he did not offer to do the same? No, with his team back together, he would make sure things were different and that each of them, knew they could count on him and trust him. Especially Emily. How could he expect her to be with him if she couldn't trust him?

As he rounded the corner to walk down the hall that led to Emily's room, he crashed into a woman who was coming from the opposite direction.

"I beg your pardon," he said apologetically as his hands came out to steady her.

"I guess we both have a tendency to hug corners," she laughed as she found her footing and then looked up into his face. Her smile faded slightly, but she nodded her head in a pleasant way. "Agent Hotchner."

It was the silent woman from the debriefing. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, ma'am."

She held out her hand. "Marina Saville, CIA."

Hesitantly, he shook her hand as he processed her name. It clicked for him in less than five seconds. Marina Saville, the CIA's number two person. He had heard vague stories about this woman, some of them not too pleasant. He looked at her warily. "Were you visiting Emily?"

"I was." She regarded him silently and he simply returned the stare, not intimidated by the examination. "She's very loyal to you, Agent Hotchner. To you and your team."

For some reason, those words filled Hotch with uneasiness. "As we are to her."

"That wasn't what I heard from some of your agents."

"But you also heard that I know they will come around," Hotch bit back. "The foundation is strong. I'm not saying we didn't take a beating, but we'll rebuild that trust on both our sides."

Saville arched an eyebrow. "Ahhh, so you're aware that Emily might have some issues too?"

"Trust is a two-way street. I know that and I get it," he responded evenly. "But we will get there."

"Perhaps. I however, do want Emily back at the CIA. She was one of our finest agents."

"She's already got a job, with the Bureau."

"But which one will she accept?"

She was too cocky, too confident in Emily's choice and he felt a feeling of dread come over him. Hotch peered at her closely. Her CIA job ruined her life, forced Emily to fake her death and go on the run. She wouldn't be going back there because she _wanted_ to, so it means they've boxed her into that decision in some way. It had to be him. Given that a good portion of all the debriefings had been spent around his shooting Doyle, he had to be the leverage they used on Emily.

On one hand he felt elated that she would go to such lengths to protect him, on the other hand he was furious she was going to such lengths to protect him. It shouldn't surprise him. She had done it before, offering to resign from the Bureau instead of acting as Strauss' spy. But this? This wasn't a simple career change. This was something that could cost Emily her life.

And take her away from him once again.

"What did you say to her?" he growled out in a low voice that took on a menacing tone.

Saville held her ground and stared blandly back at the man. She was too highly placed for him to touch her career-wise and she knew Hotch would never physically hurt her.

"I presented her with her options and she chose. Really Agent Hotchner, this is best for everyone. Your team has a source of conflict and concern removed, and I get one of my best agents back."

"Emily Prentiss is not a source of conflict," he snarled, his face tight. "She is as valuable of an agent to you as she is to me and I will _not_ have you messing with one of mine."

"But she's not one of yours, Agent Hotchner. When she 'died' two years ago, her employment with the Bureau was officially terminated. As of right now, Emily Prentiss legally does not exist."

Hotch stepped back and blinked as his quick mind ran through the possibilities. Emily was a good agent, yes, and in a lot of ways, she was unique. But Saville just pointed out inadvertently something Hotch hadn't considered before. In a world where we were tracked by numbers, paperwork, credit reports, endless amounts of information, Emily no longer had any of that because she had been declared legally dead and had been living off the grid since then. "A shadow agent. You want to use her as a shadow agent. The fact that she's been 'dead' and off the grid and anyone's radar will allow her to move about freely, able to adopt multiple, faked identities. She will be nameless and faceless, able to slip into whatever role created for her and with her language skills and adaptability, she's got a near endless range of possibilities."

"It'll be like having a brand new agent no one knows, but with years of experience and talents that have been honed. I don't know if you're aware of it, but she's an incredible actress, able to inhabit the skin of who she needs to be. As I said Agent Hotchner, Emily is far too valuable for us to not have back at the Agency." She moved past him as he stood there, stunned by the callous and cold assessment Saville had made of Emily, like she was nothing more than a pretty doll to be dressed up and forced to act however her owner wanted her to.

Saville walked past him, but paused a few steps away to say quietly over her shoulder. "She's doing it for you. Take comfort in the fact that she cares that much." She walked quietly away.

Hotch leaned heavily against the wall and took a deep breath, his eyes closed. If he was meant to find comfort in Emily's motivations, he did not. He didn't want her to sacrifice anything for him and he sure as Hell was not going to lose her after he just got her back.

His eyes flashed opened and he straightened up off the wall. Anger coursed through his body and he stalked towards Emily's room, rapping sharply on the door. At her muffled, 'come in', he pushed it open and stepped inside the room.

Emily was standing by the window, her hand resting against the sill, the other hand loosely wrapped around her mid-section, gently cradling her ribs. She didn't seem surprised to see him. The bruises had begun to fade from her face and in her slippers, she looked smaller, delicate, fragile. He felt an urge to pull her into his arms as if to shelter and protect her.

"I've been expecting you."


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: This part took a while to write and I'm not sure I got it 100% the way it should be. I've re-written it several times. A few things I felt needed to happen and one of the main things was that Hotch needed to be able to express his anger at Emily. Everyone else has had a chance to do that so far (except for Rossi, but I always viewed him as the most pragmatic of the bunch so I actually can't see him angry at Emily), and I felt Hotch definitely needed to be able to vent in some way too. I think there are only two, maybe three more parts to go on this story and then the second story will come into play. Thanks to those who have been sticking with it. If you have a chance, please leave some feedback. Thank you for reading!**

"I've been expecting you," she said as turned completely around to face him, her back now against the window. The sun was behind her, creating a halo affect around her, but also shadowing her face somewhat, making it harder to read. Hotch knew that was deliberate.

"I had my debriefing today," he replied as he moved over towards the bed, forcing her to turn towards him at an angle, throwing more light onto her face. "But you already knew that."

"Yes, JJ told me a few days ago what the schedule was like." Emily shifted again, taking a few casual steps away from him, maintaining a distance of about ten feet between them. Hotch frowned slightly, not liking what she was doing. "How did it go?"

"As expected," he replied. He peered closely at her. "They came down hard on me for Doyle's shooting. Questioning whether it was for pure revenge."

"Which is ridiculous. It was a justified shooting. I'm sure everyone told them that." Emily shuffled away from him again as he made a move towards her.

He went after her, continuing their bizarre dance. "What did you say to them?"

She hesitated and replied honestly. "Not much. Those few minutes, it really is a bit of a blur to me. I'm not even quite clear on what happened when I stabbed Doyle. I wasn't much use to you when they asked." This last part was said with a note of apology in her voice.

Hotch moved so quickly towards her that she didn't have time to shuffle away from him this time. He gently put his hands on her shoulders. "You have nothing to apologize for." He hesitated for a beat. "For anything. Including Doyle. I understand why you did what you did. I may not agree with how you went about it. But I understand."

She tried to step back, away from him, overwhelmed by his simple words, but not wanting to him to see her emotions. But Hotch wouldn't release her. She looked down instead, trying to regain her composure.

"Emily?" Hotch's voice rumbled above her.

When she looked up, her eyes held a cool, distant look and she firmly disengaged herself from his grasp. She took a step back and said in that polite and professional voice he had long ago started to hate:

"That's very kind of you to say, but completely unnecessary."

Hotch scowled at her. He was not having any of this, this deliberate distancing of herself. He knew Emily Prentiss could conjure up this mask at will to hide behind, but he was not going to let her get away with it.

"Stop it," he all but snarled. "Stop this Prentiss thing you do when you don't want anyone to know what's really going on with you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't aware I was doing a 'Prentiss thing', sir."

The "sir" nearly sent him over the edge. She hadn't said that to him since she first started at the BAU and though Emily never admitted it, he suspected her 'sir' and 'ma'am' were her ways of giving someone the finger without actually doing so. The fact that she seemed to be doing that to him now made him angry.

"Stop playing this game!" Hotch snapped at her. "I ran into Saville in the hallway. I know about the deal you made with her. In exchange for returning to the CIA, she leaves me alone."

Emily was so shocked that Saville revealed all of that to Hotch, she couldn't maintain her cool façade and could only stare dumbly at him. She had wondered how to approach this meeting. Hotch wouldn't take "no" as an answer. Hadn't she tried to leave the Bureau once before only to have him come and badger her back into returning? Emily had finally settled on playing up her exhaustion and her injuries as needing time to recuperate and heal. She was pretty sure he would accept that excuse. Now Saville had just blown her careful plan to Hell. Rapidly, her mind began to work trying to figure out the angles the Agency woman might be playing. One thing Emily knew, Marina Saville never did anything without some benefit to her or her plans. What did she hope to accomplish by telling Hotch about the Devil's pact she had made?

"It's not going to work, Emily," Hotch continued, taking advantage of her silence. "We'll find another way." He reached out again to grasp her gently by her shoulders.

His touch seemed to bring her around and Emily shrugged off his hands. "No!" she snapped, her mind working at lightening speed. _Why? Why, did she tell Hotch? _"I've made my decision and I'm doing this." She scrambled frantically for a back-up plan.

"Would you stop playing the damn martyr, Prentiss!" Hotch growled, ignorant of the thoughts running rapidly through Emily's head. "No one asked you to throw yourself in front of the bus for any of us. Or do you think we're too incompetent to defend and fight for ourselves?"

"You guys don't know what you're dealing with. You're not prepared-"

Hotch stepped into her personal space and this time she didn't back down. They were almost nose-to-nose with each other, both of them running hot by this time. "How the Hell do you know what we're capable of? What we're prepared to do?"

"Because you've admitted it yourself, Hotch," she spat back at him. At his surprised look, she elaborated. "Two years ago. Boston. Clyde asked you the question: could you put a bullet in Doyle's head? You said no."

"Just did exactly that a week ago," he said quietly, pulling back a little from her.

Emily's mouth twisted into a soft, sad smile. "When I was in eminent danger, when you had no choice. Let's face it Hotch, you, Reid, Morgan, JJ and probably even Rossi, though I admit, I sometimes wonder about him, you guys simply don't have it in you."

"And what's that?"

"The willingness to get your hands dirty. To do what it takes, no matter how much it costs your soul. You guys aren't built that way. And I wasn't going to put you in a position where you might be tempted to make that choice. Trust me," she gave him a rueful look, "It's not a pretty place to be."

She started to turn away from him, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"And who gave you the right," he said in a low, calm voice, "To decide for us?"

She shot him a suspicious look, not liking how calm he was sounding. She straightened her shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "Because what I needed in Boston two years ago, was someone who wouldn't hesitate. Who would unquestioningly have my back and do what was necessary."

He felt the anger building in him again. "And you think I couldn't be that person? That everyone on the team would have turned their backs."

"I don't want to get into this, Hotch," she sighed and started to turn away.

"No. You started this. Now answer me. You think the team wouldn't have had your back two years ago?"

Taking a deep, internal breath, Emily knew there was only one other route to take. It would be harsh and she knew it would burn any remaining bridges she had with the team and likely end whatever relationship she had with Hotch and the others. But it was the only way to make sure they would remain untouched and safe. She hardened her eyes and forced her features into lines of granite. She saw Hotch's own eyes narrow at her as he noticed the shift in her expression.

"Not in the way that I needed them to have it," she replied. Inwardly, Emily winced, seeing the hurt and anger in his eyes, but she noted these things with grim satisfaction. He was off-track now, the earlier bit about facing Saville and her threats himself now far from his mind.

"And what you needed was a group of killers?" Hotch's mouth thinned into a line.

"What I needed was someone who would go the distance for me and that was none of you," she replied bluntly. She straightened her back. "And is that how you view me, Hotch? A killer?"

He mentally cursed himself for using that word. "That's not what I said."

"But it's what you thought." She tilted her head and regarded him intently. "Tell me, what did you think when you saw that CVTV tape of me going after Doyle outside the bar. When I simply took out his guards. What did the others think? That I was a killer."

"Then I am too," Hotch said quietly. "I killed Foyet with my bare hands. You know as well as I do, I didn't have to go that far."

"You did it to protect Jack."

"And you did it to protect us."

"But you were running on pure emotion. I wasn't. I had planned, calculated. I knew what I was doing. _Premeditated_ my kills." Emily took a step towards him. "I didn't need a white knight to come and save me in Boston, Hotch. I needed one in tarnished armor."

He swallowed hard. Is that how she saw herself? How she saw them? That there was this wide gap between them?

"I'm sure you all asked yourselves why I didn't trust you in the first place," she continued, going for the final blow that she knew would send him out of the room and out of her life. "Part of the reason, a large part, was because I simply couldn't. Another reason, I was truly afraid for all of your safety. Ignorance of Doyle was somewhat of a shield for all of you. He didn't have to take you out because he feared you would find him. But you know why else I didn't say anything to anyone, Hotch? It's because I didn't trust you, any of you."

He stood rooted to the spot and simply stared at her for a few seconds, stunned into speechlessness. This was a question each of them had asked themselves and each other over and over again. Why hadn't she trusted us or me? Why didn't Emily come to me? To hear the reason and that it _was_ because she lacked that belief in them shocked him to the core. Hotch worked his jaw and finally asked, "After all these years, all that we've been through, you still don't trust us?"

"Why should I?"

His anger erupted and he finally yelled at her. "My God, Prentiss! You have to ask that? We've been through HELL! Foyet! Henkel! The terrorists in New York! Carl Buford!"

"All of them about one of you!" Emily shouted back. Hotch stopped and stared at her. "The team always rallied around for everyone else, but the ONE time I asked for help, the ONE, with Matthew, the only person who didn't turn his back on me was Rossi. Every other time one of the others gets into a jam or trouble or asks for help, it's no questions asked. It's full support. Hell, you freaking cover-up for them! But the one time I do something outside the lines, you come down on me like a ton of bricks, Hotch. Morgan questions my objectivity. JJ, Reid and Garcia trot after you and do what you say. Why the Hell should I trust any of you?"

He felt as though she had physically hit him, but he stood his ground though he was pale and she could see the wounded look in his eyes. She hardened herself against that look, fighting any urge to reach out and comfort him. This was better in the long run for everyone. It would hurt only a little bit for them and for her…well, it would be among the many little boxes she had locked away inside of herself.

"I never knew you felt that way," he said stiffly.

She licked her lips and held his gaze. "Now you know. I care about you all, but I can't trust you to have my back."

"And you think the CIA will provide that for you?" he spat out angrily.

"No, but the CIA isn't that big on teams and partners, so I'll be on my own, like I've always been." She sighed in exhaustion. "I know it wasn't what you wanted to hear, Hotch, but you wanted the truth. There's nothing here for you or the BAU, so just go."

She turned away from him and shuffled over to the window. Hotch stared at her back, the feelings of hope and possibility he had discovered the last few days turning to ashes before him. Emily could never deceive or lie to him, he knew that. It explained why during those last few months she was at the Bureau she had steered a clear path of him. He had been too busy to notice, the cases coming thick and fast at them and any free moment he had devoted to Jack. He would have noticed sooner she had been hiding something, like he would have known now if she was lying to him.

But now, he could see it in her eyes, in her face, she wasn't lying to him. She simply didn't trust him and he hadn't realized how much that would hurt until he actually heard her say it.

"Well then," he said softly. "I guess there's nothing else to say." He started towards the door but paused to take one last look at her. She still had not turned around. "Goodbye, Emily. I wish you luck. You may not have trusted me, but know I trust you with everything. Everything." He opened the door and left.

She heard the door swing shut with a soft thud, but she did not turn around. She had done it; she had gotten Hotch to leave and torn him apart emotionally so much that he had forgotten about his conversation with Saville. She had accomplished what she had set out to do and Hotch and the others will remain safe and untouched by any of her sins. Still, Emily continued to stand there by the window, allowing the tears to fall freely from her eyes as she gazed out into her lonely and dark future.

**A/N 2: Yeah, nothing is ever easy for these two. All I have to say is fear not, because there is some resolution in the next part because someone has a trick or two up his or her sleeve. Thanks for reading!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews for the last chapter! Whoo hoo! I broke the 400 review mark! It was a tough chapter and one of those that puts the reader and writer through the ringer so I'm glad so many folks found it worth it. Here's the next chapter and as I promised, it offers some resolution. Hope you enjoy and if you can, please leave a review. Also, I was told that the 2****nd**** Annual Profilers Choice Award for Criminal Minds fiction is now open for nominations. The ballots are found in the discussion forum, Chit Chat on Authors Corner, 2011 Profilers Choice CM Awards - Nomination Ballot. **

Hotch wanted to hurl his phone across the room, but settled instead for throwing it down on the coffee table before him where it bounced harmlessly off the scattered papers lying on top of the surface. He ran his hands through his disheveled hair, evidence that he had been doing that frequently over the last few hours.

He replayed his conversation with Emily from yesterday over and over again in his mind. Her words had devastated him, he would admit that and when he had gotten home from the hospital, all he wanted to do was grab the bottle of aged Scotch Rossi had given him last Christmas and drink himself into oblivion.

However, Jack was home so he had to pretend everything was okay until his son fell asleep. Even then, he had only indulged in two glasses as their conversation played on a loop in his mind. Even when he finally fell asleep around 4 am, he had dreamed about her and her words. He woke up with a headache and was grateful Jack had school and he was still on leave. He had the apartment to himself and made a call he was loathed to make.

Hotch informed Ambassador Prentiss of Emily's decision. The Ambassador was less than pleased. She was so angry that she had reminded Hotch that her protection from Strauss hinged on his ability to get Emily back on his team.

"I don't care how you accomplish it, Agent Hotchner," Elizabeth Prentiss' cool, cultured tone was as biting as an Artic wind, "Just remember, persuading her to re-join you is the only reason I have for protecting you from within the Bureau. So I suggest you get right on it."

But what was he supposed to do? If Emily didn't want to come back, it's not like he could order her and she made it clear, she had some issues with her relationship with the team. How exactly was he going to convince her to come back? Not to mention the threat Saville made to him that she was holding over Emily's head. Even if that was the only issue, he had no idea how to make that go away.

Trust. He remembered that was one of the first things he lectured Emily on when she joined the BAU; that trust was the most important thing among the team because of what they had to do, what they faced day in and day out. Each of them needed to be able to trust the other because the only safety-nets they had were themselves. It was ironic that he always viewed it as Emily needing to earn his and the team's trust, forgetting that trust was always a two-way street.

Hotch thought back to their years of working together and wondered why she felt as though she couldn't trust him or the others to the extent they had trusted her. Yes, the Matthew Benton case was one not his finest hour, but to be fair, Emily was also on an emotional rollercoaster throughout it.

_But weren't you also?_

Hotch sometimes hated that little voice inside of him that wouldn't let him escape the truth. Yes, he had felt ill-equipped to handle the Benton case because it _was_ Emily who was so invested in it. He had wanted to charge in and make everything better for her and because he had to fight those instincts, he may have over-compensated in the opposite direction, sending mixed signals to everyone. The only one who seemed to see things clearly enough was Rossi and while Hotch will be forever grateful that he was able to help Emily through that time, he will also feel a bit of resentment towards the older man that he had taken on the protective and caring role that he, Hotch, so desperately wanted to, but couldn't because of his position.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his musings. Hotch pushed himself off the couch and went to the front door, stooping over slightly to look out the peephole. His visitor was unexpected and not entirely welcomed. With a sigh, he opened the door and looked into Clyde Easter's smiling face.

"What do you want, Easter?" Hotch said in a flat, cool tone.

"Well, at the moment, I hope you would invite me in," the Englishman returned with a confident, somewhat smug smile.

Hotch smothered a growl and stepped aside. Easter walked into the house and into the living room as Hotch locked the front door. When the FBI agent stepped back into his living room, he saw Easter had made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

"Nice little house you have here, Agent Hotchner. Very…suburban."

"Is there a point to your visit, Easter?" Hotch snapped as he stood with his arms crossed.

"I've come to talk about our favorite topic, Emily."

It still bothered him to hear this man say her name. Given the way he said it and some of the little things Easter had let slip over their few conversations, Hotch suspected that the Englishman harbored more than just friendly feelings for the beautiful brunette. That awoke Hotch's possessive streak and jealousy because he suspected Easter knew more about Emily than he himself did.

"She's going back to the CIA if you haven't heard. So Emily Prentiss no longer has any impact on my life," Hotch said dismissively.

Easter let out a snort of derisive laughter. Hotch glared at him. "Oh, Agent Hotchner! I highly doubt that. No matter what, Emily Prentiss will always have an impact on your life, whether you want her to or not. That's just the type of person she is and the type of person she is for you." He tilted his head as he regarded Hotch's stony expression. What he saw caused him to smirk. "Don't think you were able to hide your feelings for Emily from me, Agent Hotchner." His smirk morphed into a sad, wistful smile. "As a man who's been in your shoes, I can see the signs."

"She turned you down?" Hotch asked. Though his stomach roiled at the confirmation of his suspicions where Easter's feelings for Emily stood, he couldn't help the curiosity that ran through him.

"She never knew," Easter replied easily. "My fault really, though I don't think her feelings for me ever went beyond the friendship stage, hence me never pursuing anything. Much easier to keep longing from afar rather than just being slapped with cruel reality that she just doesn't feel the same way. And the fact that I'm not her type." He shook his head. "But all that is irrelevant. You heard Emily is going back to the CIA?"

"Straight from her."

"And I take it that isn't what you want, nor does she?"

"Of course I don't want her back with those jackals!" Hotch snapped. "They used her and nearly got her killed. I want her where I can keep an eye on her, keep her safe, protect her, take care of her."

"That sounds more like a man who wants to marry her, not one who wants her back on his team of profilers." Easter's voice was amused.

Hotch glared at him again, but simply said, "She belongs at the BAU and we watch out for our own. She never had that with the CIA."

"Well, they do work clandestinely." He regarded Hotch quietly for a moment. "And what about the trust issue? Do you think your team will be able to work through that if she's back?"

Hotch nodded. "I think a lot of them are halfway there. It'll take a little bit of time, but it'll all work out." He couldn't believe he was saying this to Easter of all people, but for some reason, the words just came out. "I'm not so sure though, she's at that point where she trusts us."

"What do you mean?" Clyde asked, for once genuinely surprised, all traces of arrogance and smugness gone.

"It seems all these years, without my knowledge, Emily has had trust issues with all of us, with me." Hotch said in a bitter tone.

It was so subtle, so quick, he almost missed it. Really, it was no more than a flicker and for someone less skilled than Hotch in reading people, it would have been mistaken for a shift in the light from the window, but he did catch it, he did see it. A subtle look in Clyde Easter's eye that was there and then gone.

"What?" Hotch demanded. "What do you know?"

Easter was back in his usual mode of studied carelessness. "Not relevant to my visit. I just want to make clear that if Emily wasn't going to the CIA that she would be welcomed back to your team and there wouldn't be any trouble if she was to rejoin."

Hotch was still looking at him suspiciously. "Of course."

"That's all I needed to hear," Easter replied cheerily as he stood up. "I would suggest you have that little blonde media liaison of yours on standby and that you watch the news at 5 pm very closely."

"Wha-? Wait, what's going on?" Hotch demanded as Easter moved smoothly from the living room to the front door. "Easter! What the Hell is going on?"

"You'll find out at five o'clock," came the cheery replied. Before Hotch had even managed to make it to the hallway, Easter had the door unlocked and partway open. He paused for a moment, allowing Hotch a chance to catch up with him. He turned around and his eyes were serious as he gazed at the taller man.

"Agent Hotchner, as far as Emily's trust issues, don't think it's all based on you or your team."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Easter's lips thinned and Hotch could see the man was struggling with the decision to say more or not. "Let's just say that something happened once that made Emily leery to place all her trust in a team setting."

"You mean the Doyle mission?"

Easter raised his eyebrows. "Agent Hotchner, keep in mind that while Emily was a fairly young agent when she received the Doyle assignment, don't think by any means that was her first case." His look told Hotch he would not say anything more. He simply nodded and said, "Five o'clock news. It should prove interesting."

With those final words, Clyde Easter left.

* * *

Since Clyde Easter's mysterious words that morning, Hotch made sure his TV was on well before the appointed time. Jack was up in his room when the five o'clock news came on and it was a good thing too or the little boy would have been surprised by his father's reactions.

"_Sources indicate the notorious international terrorist Ian Doyle was killed in a gun battle with law enforcement agents last week. Doyle has been connected to over a dozen terrorist activities in Europe and Asia and the murder of several families in the Washington/Virginia area two years ago. He was also implicated in the death of FBI Agent Emily Prentiss, daughter of Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss, who was assigned to investigate those murders. However, in a twist so strange it seems it's out of a Hollywood movie, it has been revealed that the agent who headed up the operation to take down Doyle was none other than Emily Prentiss. Our sources revealed that Agent Prentiss' death was staged to allow her the opportunity to work clandestinely to bring to justice one of the most dangerous men in the world. The FBI has indicated that they will be issuing a statement within the hour on this extraordinary operation."_

Hotch's phone began to buzz and he blindly picked it up. He glanced down at it and saw a text message, but he could almost hear the derisive, smug tone of the man who sent it.

"_The CIA so doesn't like it when their agents receive publicity."_

Clyde Easter had just Valerie Plame'd Emily. And in doing so, had greatly de-valued her worth to Saville and the CIA. While Emily had many qualities Saville was looking for, her main attraction had been the fact that for all intents and purposes, Emily Prentiss was dead. Emily would have been able to move about more freely and clandestinely than other agents. But now, with her face and name plastered all over the news, she was practically worthless to the CIA, an agency whose agents needed their anonymity.

But even as Hotch's heart began to race knowing now that the CIA was no longer an option for Emily and likely no threat to him, a new worry began to invade his thoughts. By plastering Emily's face all over the news, did Easter suddenly draw a target on her back? Easter had spoken of other cases Emily had had during her time at the CIA. Did any of these old cases present a problem?

His phone began to ring and he saw JJ's name flash up on the screen.

"JJ?"

"Hotch! What the Hell is going on? Did you see the news?"

"I did. I'm as surprised as you are."

"The Bureau is going nuts. You haven't even submitted my paperwork, but they're already calling me back in to help handle this mess."

"If anyone can do it, JJ, it's you. I suspect they'll want to spin it as something the FBI had planned all along." Hotch rubbed his forehead wearily.

"Oh, you know they will. It's the only thing they can do without looking like idiots. But Hotch, who leaked this story to them?"

"I have my suspicions."

* * *

Clyde Easter sat down on the park bench next to the man who was feeding the squirrels from a bag of peanuts. A greedy pigeon, eyeing the food attempted to steal one peanut from a smaller squirrel, but the furry animal chattered and snapped viciously at his feathered competition, causing the larger, but less brave creature to take off flying. The squirrel picked up the peanut and scampered away.

"You really shouldn't be encouraging the vermin," Easter said distastefully as he watched the small creatures dart about.

"They add some character to our little meeting," the man said.

Easter snorted. "How clichéd. A meeting in the park, an old man feeding squirrels and birds. Very 1970s spy flick."

"Still effective," the man said as he finished distributing the rest of the peanuts. He dusted his hands and showed the squirrels the empty bag. "I saw the news. Good work."

"The various agencies are scrambling about now, trying to take control of this story," Easter replied. He turned to regard the man next to him. "It was rather a risk exposing her like that. I'm surprised you took it, considering she is your daughter."

Robert Jones turned to look at the Englishman. "Minimal risk, actually. Emily's previous cases with the CIA are long dead and buried with no one possibly interested in her. As for Doyle's people, if there's even anyone interested in her at all by this point, they already know about her existence."

Easter nodded. "I see your point. But why keep your involvement a secret? It is your idea. I noticed the hostility between you and Agent Hotchner. I'm sure this would go a long way to smoothing things over with him and your ex-wife."

"Oh, but that's what I don't want."

Easter blinked at him in surprise. "It's not?"

"No Clyde, you see, as long as they think I'm the unfeeling, cold-hearted bastard, those two, especially Agent Hotchner, will do everything they can to protect my little girl. They'll think I won't be there in any capacity, so they're going to try harder, to make up for me. Now, I can't dissuade Emily to not be in law enforcement, but I can sure as Hell make certain that wherever she's posted, she's got someone who'll protect her and watch her back no matter what." He gazed pointedly at Easter. "Unlike the last time."

Clyde nodded. "That was a complete fiasco. But you made him pay."

"Not enough," Jones snarled, the anger still evident even all these years later. "He had a few too many layers protecting him. I hope I haven't read Hotchner wrong."

"I don't think so," Easter said meditatively. He shook his head. "No, Hotchner would never do, what he did to her."

"He'd better not," Jones swore darkly, "Or Agent Hotchner will find himself in for a very unpleasant life."

"In this case though, you've made me into the hero of this scenario. Or goat," Easter said lightly.

"You seemed quite happy to take on that role."

"I did it for Emily," was Easter's simple response.

Jones looked closely at the man for a moment but then simply nodded. "I'm assuming you won't be sticking around?"

Easter shook his head. "I've been recalled back to England." He gave Jones a crooked smile. "I think it might be wise for me to leave before Agent Hotchner gets his hands on me."

"A very wise idea."

Easter stood up to leave but paused and looked down at Jones. "Do you think she'll go back? The BAU, I mean?"

Jones slowly nodded his head. "It's her calling, but it will take Aaron Hotchner to persuade her. My beloved daughter can be quite stubborn at times."

"And if he can't?"

"It wouldn't be good for him if he fails."

* * *

**A/N 2**: **For those who don't know, Valerie Plame was a CIA operative whose cover was blown by the Bush Administration. Because of that, she had to resign from the Agency. But it also stood to reason that no one would be of use to the CIA as an agent if their face was plastered all over the news and if they were made out to be some national hero for taking down a terrorist. Also, yes, Emily's dad isn't all that bad either. He's just manipulative. And for all the talk about why Emily has these trust issues and what happened in the past, that's partly a set up for the sequel to this story. Just laying some groundwork here and throwing out some hints. Hope you enjoyed this part, and read and review when you have a chance. Thanks!**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Can you believe it? This story is almost done. Just maybe one or two more parts after this one (depending on how long I want to make the chapter(s)). Thank you for those who have stuck around and I hope you enjoyed the ride. It's not quite over and by that I mean not only the fact that there remain a part or two to "Reckoning", but I do have a sequel planned. I do know that this is in no way anything similar to what they have planned for the show, so we're definitely in an alternate universe from the show itself. I guess the only similarity is Emily's photo on the wall of fallen agents. But I hope folks enjoy this part, and as always, I love hearing feedback. And just a reminder, the nomination ballot for the Second Criminal Minds Profiler Fan Fic Awards is up in the "Discussion Forum". Enjoy!**

Dave Rossi was trying to work on his next book, but had been doodling for the last hour when he heard the newscast. Derek Morgan was working out at the gym and nearly fell off the treadmill as he watched CNN and saw the announcement. Penelope Garcia had to call Spencer Reid who was playing chess in the park, but as soon as he heard the news, he, like the others, called Hotch.

For several hours, Hotch had to field calls not only from his team, but from the Bureau chiefs who were getting pressure from both the CIA and Interpol demanding answers that the FBI did not have. And neither did Hotch. Fortunately, Hotch could honestly say that he and his team had absolutely nothing to do with the news story and they were as surprised as everyone else.

But even worse for Hotch, was explaining to Jack, who wandered into the living room and saw a picture of his "Emmy" on the television, why the woman he had grown close to two years ago and still remembered was on their TV.

Hotch had never told Jack about Emily's 'death', just hoping the memory of the brunette would fade for the boy, but Jack had shown a resilience where Emily Prentiss was concerned. So Hotch had simply said Emily was 'away' fighting the bad guys. Now, it appeared to Jack she was back and from what little he heard of the news, which Hotch quickly switched off, she had accomplished her mission of catching a pretty bad guy.

"So does that mean Emmy will be visiting me soon, Daddy?" he asked in excitement.

How was he going to answer that? Hotch had wondered. He simply wasn't sure. Earlier that day, he expected Emily Prentiss to simply slip out of his life, likely never to be heard from again, but now?

As he gazed into his son's excited and hopeful face, that same excitement and hope began to seep into him. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a reaction his son could always easily pull out of him. Hotch knelt down and placed his hands on his boy's small shoulders.

"You know what, buddy?" he said. "I think there's a good possibility you'll see Emmy real soon."

* * *

As JJ predicted, the FBI hated looking like idiots, so they quickly confirmed that Agent Prentiss had been a member of a top secret plan to bring down Ian Doyle that was put into place two years ago. They had wanted to try to protect Agent Prentiss' cover and privacy as much as possible, but other factors have forced their hand. The plan was a drastic one, but such measures needed to be taken to ensure the downfall of Ian Doyle, who had been one of the world's most wanted men. The Bureau was proud of the sacrifices and work Agent Prentiss had done in service of her country.

And just like that, Emily Prentiss had an engraved invitation back into the Bureau because they weren't about to give their own hero the boot?

The news outlets ran with the story and it quickly caught fire. Add to it the almost Hollywood-esque storyline, Emily's prominent and wealthy family and her own beautiful looks, and she became a ready-made American heroine, defeating a deadly terrorist who had no qualms about killing anyone, including children, and all the while, still looking gorgeous. She was a real action heroine, ready to protect God, America, Mom and Apple Pie.

The media loved it. The FBI fed it.

Relatives of some of Doyle's victims were interviewed thanking the Bureau and Agent Prentiss' work in getting justice for their loved ones. Representatives from different nations emphasized how much of a danger Ian Doyle had been to their countries, and reinforced the idea that he was a man who needed to be taken out. Pictures of the devastation the terrorist activities Doyle had been linked to were constantly flashed on millions of screens and as the news went global, billions of screens. And through it all, the Bureau received some of the best publicity it had ever gotten in the past ten years. It was almost as if this storybook ending was planned.

But it wasn't.

And what of the woman at the center of the biggest news story of the night? Emily was sitting quietly in her hospital bed, knowing in a few hours she would board a plane for San Francisco and her new life. She had been absently flipping through channels and decided to watch the news.

The remote control fell from her hand when she saw what the top news story was.

Two hours later, Marina Saville paid her a visit.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Saville exclaimed. She sat down on Emily's bed.

"How the Hell did this happen?" Emily yelled at her. In the two hours since she had been watching the news, seeing the images of devastation Doyle had wrought, pictures of herself, JJ reading the official Bureau announcement, everything, she had grown more and more panicked by what all this could possibly mean. "I'm plastered all over the news!"

"Yes," Saville remarked quietly as she studied Emily. "Yes, you are." She regarded the younger woman for several more seconds and finally nodded her head gently. "It appears someone leaked that information."

"But who? Why?"

Saville sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Emily, you're not stupid. Obviously to make sure you didn't come and work for me. It's the only explanation."

Prentiss shot Saville a hard look. "That may be the reason, but who would do it?"

"I can think of several people," Saville said evenly. "Agent Hotchner for instance."

"Hotch never would," Emily replied quickly. She shook her head in a definite manner. "No. I don't think he could even think of something like this. He just doesn't play the game in this way."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Saville's face that made Emily's antennae go up rapidly. "Perhaps," she murmured, though the tone she said it in clearly implied she thought Emily was being naïve in her thinking. She stood and smoothed down her skirt. "Well, as you know, you've become less…viable for the Agency, though you are America's new favorite heroine." She said the last part with an ironic twist of her mouth. "At least until a new one comes along or something else captures the public's interest like a cat playing piano or some other mindless distraction on the Internet."

Saville started leave, but Emily stopped her.

"What happens now?"

Saville turned and looked at her in surprise. "Why, my dear, you get to do what you want. I'm naturally rescinding my job offer. It would be inappropriate for you to work for the Agency after all this…publicity."

"And Hotch-, Agent Hotchner?" Emily couldn't quell the feeling of anxiety.

Saville almost snorted but settled for waving a dismissive hand. "No use for him either. You know I never break my word, Emily, so I will say that I will not go after Agent Hotchner or make things difficult for him in any way. Really, I think he accomplishes that on his own quite well without _me_ doing anything."

"Then I just have one more question," Emily persisted.

Saville let out a small sigh this time and looked expectantly at the brunette. "Yes?"

"Why did you tell Hotch-, Agent Hotchner, about the deal we made? You didn't have to, but you did. What purpose did that serve you?"

Saville sighed loudly and in disappointment. "Oh, Emily, Emily, Emily, that one is so simple." She stepped closer to Prentiss and stared kindly into the younger woman's face. "It was because I knew Agent Hotchner would tell you and refuse to allow you to make such a sacrifice for him and that you would do or say the one thing that would permanently drive him away from you. You see Emily, I needed you to be the one to look in Aaron Hotchner's face and break his heart, shatter his trust, whatever it took to break off relations with you in every possible way because that man was determined not to let you out of his sight again. So you needed to be the one to tell him to leave you alone. I knew that you would worry and wonder what I had planned and will do whatever you had to, to make sure Agent Hotchner was safe even it that meant breaking his heart and trust. And I was right, wasn't I, my dear?"

Emily stared at the other woman in revulsion and hatred at how easily she manipulated people and lives as they were no more than figurines displayed on a shelf that she rearranged every now and then to her please any sudden whim she might have.

"You see, Emily, you forget, like most people, that I know and understand people. I'm a profiler too. Oh, I don't use the label and that's all it is. Profiling isn't something Jason Gideon, David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner created or even named. It's existed ever since there was an observant man or woman. And people like your Aaron Hotchner and you too, my dear, forget that sometimes, the best 'profilers' might not have that title at all."

"You are one cold-hearted, vicious bitch," Emily whispered.

"Yes, dear, but you've always known that. But I'm an honest one too." She patted Emily's arm gently and then turned to leave. She paused in the door way, half-way out of the room before she turned around to look at Emily one last time. "But just think, Emily, how much scarier it would be if I wasn't working for our side."

With those last words and a small smile, she was gone.

Emily sat down on her bed with a thump, too stunned by the turn of events in the past few hours. Finally, the stupor she was in began to wear off and she realized, she had nowhere to go. She couldn't stay in the Naval Hospital, she no longer had a job with the CIA or the FBI, Hell, she was still legally _dead_. Where would she go for tonight? What was she going to do?

She figured she could stay with her mother or her father for at least a few nights, but how to get to either place? Or to call them? She had no money, no phone. Maybe as a national heroine she could bum a cab ride?

The room suddenly seemed too closed in for her and she had this overwhelming urge to just bolt, forget Emily Prentiss was ever alive again and go someplace quiet to get her bearings and figure out what to do with the rest of her life, such as it was. The one thing she knew she had to do was leave this small hospital room and begin to put this entire nightmare behind her.

The hospital had provided her with a duffle bag to pack her few belongings, mainly the clothes and toiletries Garcia and JJ had brought for her. The bag wasn't heavy, but her ribs still bothered her and she sucked in her breath at the sharp stab of pain caused by swinging the bag onto her shoulder. She ignored the pain and walked to the door.

She had just pulled the door open and found Hotch on the other side, his hand raised as if to knock.

He took one look at her, the bag slung on her shoulder and his eyes darkened and his mouth twisted into a cool smile.

"Running, Prentiss?"


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and interesting that some folks thought Jack would be with Hotch. In a word, no. However, we have not seen the last of the little tyke. There might be two parts after this one because I might split it up to make it read better. I'm not sure yet. But the story is winding down. I'm trying to see if maybe I can have it finished this holiday weekend. Hope you enjoy, and please remember to leave feedback if you have a chance.**

"Running, Prentiss?"

There was a coolness to his tone with a hint of…mocking? It was something she had never heard in Aaron Hotchner's voice before. Anger, shock, annoyance, exasperation, but mockery? Never. He was always so serious, so focused and intense. He was all those things now, but there was something else too that she couldn't identify and it both drew and frightened her.

"Of course not," she returned in a chilly tone that she used to cover up the uneasiness she was feeling. She stood her ground, but when he moved closer towards her to enter the room, his chest almost brushing against hers, one of his legs nearly coming between both of hers, she hastily retreated in surprise, her feigned demeanor quickly shattered by a simple step by him.

The corners of his mouth tilted slightly upwards, the only indication he found her reaction amusing and he pressed his advantage, pushing her back into the room without laying a finger on her. She could do nothing but fall back as he kept stepping towards her. He followed and then closed the door and leaned against it, effectively cutting off her exit. Hotch crossed his arms and regarded her.

"Then where are you going?" he asked calmly with a tilt of his head towards the duffle bag that she had now dropped to the floor as she kept a comfortable distance between them.

"I was discharged, so I'm leaving. I can't very well stay here forever," she snapped, unnerved by the way he was acting.

"Where will you go?"

Emily hesitated and wondered if she could get away with lying to him and bring up the CIA job offer that no longer existed, but something about the look in his eye made her think that would be the dumbest thing she could do right now. Instead, she opted for another tactic.

"I don't see where it's any of your concern," she asked aloofly, hoping to freeze him out and get him to leave her alone.

"And why wouldn't it be?" he replied as he pushed himself off the door and came towards her, stalking her almost like a large, sleek cat after some prey.

And prey was what Emily Prentiss felt like at that moment. She didn't know what the Hell was up with Hotch nor why she would suddenly feel so jumpy around this man. While she could not honestly say that she's always felt at ease in his presence, he's never made her so skittish and uncertain before. As he approached her, she started to move towards the window, pretending she wasn't trying to scramble away from him.

"Maybe because you're no longer my supervisor," she retorted, trying to gain some ground she hadn't even realized she had lost.

"But we're still friends, aren't we, Emily?" he asked quietly as he stopped right next to her. While it had amused him to see her clearly disconcerted by his presence and attitude, something he had done to try to regain some semblance of authority and control in this entire situation, both of them needed to stop playing such games and simply be honest with each other. It was time to get to the heart of the matter and what mattered now, was what Emily was going to do next. He needed her to know that even if there were trust issues between them and if she didn't feel that indefinable something else he was beginning to feel for her, that she knew they were still friends.

She sighed and appeared to deflate a little before his eyes, looking smaller, more fragile. His hand twitched, aching to reach out to comfort her, but while a moment ago he was enjoying invading her space to confuse her, he knew now was not the time for such contact.

"Emily?" he said in a gentle tone. "We are still friends. As your friend, I'm concerned about you. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I think, Hotch," she said in a slightly broken voice. "It's probably best for you to just let me go."

He felt a cold hand grip his heart and panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he retained his outward calmness. Anything else, any other type of reaction would likely send her heading out the door forever. She didn't need Aaron Hotchner, the man who might be falling in love with her making an emotional plea or blackmail or guilt to force her to stay. She needed SSAIC Aaron Hotchner who will calmly talk to her as her friend and point out all the very good reasons for her to stay.

Emily was leaning against the edge of the credenza that was underneath the window and both hands were gripping the lip of it. Hotch, still not touching her, stood next to her, leaning against the furniture too. To help him control his already twitching hands that ached to reach out to her, he folded his arms over his chest.

"Why would you think that?" came his measured response.

"Time has passed. You've all moved on without me here. My being back just complicates things. It's just best to keep on that path." She wouldn't look at him, merely staring straight ahead at the opposite wall.

He wouldn't look anywhere but at her. "You really think that's what happened? That we moved on? Emily, look at me." When she stubbornly refused to do so, he did reach out now to gently turn her towards him. He tilted her face up so he could see her eyes and she his.

"We didn't move on, Emily. None of us did. There wasn't a day that went by where we didn't think of you. Where I didn't think of you. Every day, I would think about all the things I could have done differently so you will still be here with us, with me."

"But you've got closure now, Hotch," she responded. "You know I'm alive and you did nothing wrong. You can put all this behind you, you and the others. Put me behind you and let go of the guilt. Let _me_ go."

"You think that was all it was about?" He looked intently into her eyes. "It wasn't just the guilt, Emily. It was missing _you_. We all did. It was not having you with us. It felt like a very important piece of each of us was gone. And it felt like that every day. Not hearing your voice. Not seeing you put Morgan in his place. Or giving Reid the encouragement he needs without him realizing what you're doing. It was not hearing Garcia call you Night Beauty or some other name that would only fit you. Do you know without you, we had to rely on Dave as our foreign language expert and that wasn't a pretty thing? And it was missing you coming into my office and nagging me to get out of there so I could be with Jack and then slipping into my hand the DVD I had promised to get him but forgot so I wouldn't go home and disappoint my boy. We missed you, Emily, not because we felt guilty, but because you are and will always be family. We could never let you go. You're a part of each of us."

He could see her eyes fill with tears, the most emotion she had shown since she'd been back and he thrilled at the sight and that he was the one who had drawn it from her. He reached out a hand to place it gently on her shoulder and offered her a comforting squeeze, letting his hand linger on her delicate shoulders, feeling her heat and the too prominent bones under his fingers.

She wanted to believe him, and for the second time in less than a half hour, she saw something in Aaron Hotchner's eyes that she had never seen before and while it still made her nervous, she also felt a warm fluttering within her. Then her cool logic took over again and she shook her head.

"It's too dangerous," she murmured. "My face is plastered all over the news. Doyle's organization-"

"Already knew you're alive and that you must have had something to do with his death," Hotch said simply. "But would they really care? How many devoted followers does he have left? Remember that man who tried to help us back at the warehouse? He seemed to indicate that a new type of thinking was taking over Doyle's group." However, if she was in danger because of the news leak, Hotch was going to hunt down Clyde Easter and beat the crap out of him. Something the Englishman had said forced him to ask the next thing. "But you have to tell me, Emily. Is there anyone else? Another old case where you could be in danger because they've seen your face on TV?"

Hotch watched her frown as if puzzled that there was even an issue or question about old enemies outside of Doyle. She shook her head.

"No. It was just Doyle."

Whether Hotch took that as Doyle being her only case with the CIA or that he was the only enemy, she didn't elaborate. Either way, while the Irishman hadn't been her only case with the Agency, he had been the only threat to her. Of her other three cases with the CIA, one was a profiling consult where she hadn't even left the agency, the second had actually become entwined with the third case and she knew the man involved there was long dead. She knew this fact intimately, as she had killed that monster herself; the first time she had ever taken a life.

She shook her head again. "No. There's no one."

"So there's no threat to any of us," Hotch responded easily. "What do you think is standing in your way?"

She eyed him uncertainly and licked her lips. For a second, his focus centered on her mouth but Hotch quickly snapped himself out of it when he realized she was worried about something.

"Trust," she finally whispered.

Hotch nodded, having anticipated the need to address this if he was going to convince her to stay. "I know there are trust issues on both sides, which is all the more reason for you to come back so we can work on them."

"Would they even want me back though if they don't trust me? Or find out that I've never fully trusted all of them?" She looked piercingly at Hotch, anxiously anticipating his answer.

He was aware of her probing stare and prepared for it. Knowing now that she had trust issues with him and the rest of the team before Doyle, Hotch anticipated that she might use the team's own trust issues with her as the excuse needed to leave their lives completely.

Hotch answered carefully, believing Emily needed just that little extra push and she would be back, but he had to do it right or she would be walking out that door and leaving him forever.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy or smooth, Emily," he began. "I anticipate it being rocky for everyone at some point or another. Trust will need to be earned by everyone. But I think you want to give us that opportunity to earn your trust. Otherwise, you would have left us long ago."

He watched as she bit her lip and looked down at her feet. "I do," she said softly, looking back up at him. "And part of it isn't even really you guys, it's just what happened-" She stopped herself abruptly and Hotch watched intently as her features shifted slightly as flickers of pain, fear and anger swirled in her eyes for an instant before they were gone. "In the past that makes me…cautious, maybe too cautious."

"Emily," his fingers tightened slightly on her shoulders. "What happened to you?"

He realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he had pushed too hard. She gently shrugged his hands off and took a step back from him, her face beginning to shut down as she created distance between them again. Hotch mentally kicked himself. In his eagerness to dig deeper and know her better, he had gone too fast. He just hoped he hadn't undone any progress he had been making.

"Hotch," she began warningly.

"I know," he hastily interrupted. He gave her a faint smile as he took a cautious step towards her. "That's the point of earning trust, isn't it? To have the honor of hearing about those types of things when you're ready to share. Sorry, I didn't mean to push."

It was with relief as he watched her relax marginally, and that cool mask she wore slowly began to fade. He pushed forward.

"So, will you come back?"

She wanted to go back, badly. Even with her trust issues, the BAU felt like the family she never had, but will it still feel that way? Would they still feel that way about her? Her trust issues she could always hide and deal on her own, but for each of them to look at her suspiciously, to wonder about her, it would be starting all over again, but only this time, they would have good reasons for never believing in her again. Did she want to go through all that?

"Emily, trust is a two way street," Hotch said, reading her mind. "We all have work to do. It's not just on you."

She was reminded of another time when Aaron Hotchner had come racing after her to bring her back to the team. He was doing it again now. Back then she had wondered what his motives where and had chalked them up to needing her for the team and maybe in some ways screwing with Strauss. She never asked why he did it, but had always wondered. She did ask now.

"Why?"

"Why what?" he asked, puzzled by the question.

"Why are you trying so hard to bring me back? You told me when I first started that trust was the most important thing to everyone on the team because of the work we did and because we all relied on each other. Why are you bringing back the one person who everyone doesn't seem to trust and who doesn't trust them in turn?"

One corner of his mouth lifted up at that as he gave her a lopsided grin. "It's because you've taught and reminded me of some very important things. I'm bringing you back because you reminded me that we're not a team, we're a family, and we need our entire family together. You taught me that it can't just be about you having to earn our trust we have to make sure we have earned yours as well. I've always demanded loyalty, excellence and faith from all of my agents, but I think I've forgotten I've needed to give that to them too. You've reminded me of that. But most importantly, Emily, not everyone distrusts you. _I_ trust you."

From her wide eyes and the little "O" her mouth formed, Aaron Hotchner knew he had accomplished the rare feat of stunning Emily Prentiss into speechlessness.

"You-, you trust me?" she stammered in surprise.

"Yes," he couldn't help but give her a full smile this time, her complete confusion and surprise both amusing and endearing to him. "Completely. I know my job now is to earn your complete trust. I'm not saying everyone feels the way I do, Emily, but know that _I_ trust you and that everyone wants you back. At least trust me to know that."

They had come full circle to when she had first joined the BAU. At the time, Aaron Hotchner was the one who was full of suspicions and she had felt compelled to prove herself to him. Now, their roles were reversed and while she was far closer to trusting him than he had her back then, he acknowledged he would have to earn her complete trust, something she had not given anyone in years.

"So what do you say?" he continued. "Will you come back?"

She could start over. It would be so easy. Now that Doyle was gone, it would be a fresh start for her, literally. No regrets, no mistakes, no betrayals, it would be a brand new life and a second chance.

Hotch grew more and more anxious the longer she remained quiet. He had to suppress the urge to suddenly order her to return. He could see her struggling and knew what she was thinking, that she could have a fresh start in life and he admitted that would be tempting to anyone who went through what Emily had the last few years. But a fresh start meant she would be gone, and away from him, and as the seconds ticked by and it seemed that possibility became more real, Hotch realized, he could not bear to have that happen.

Almost without thought, he held out his hand to her, his palm up. It was a silent plea of the words, "Stay here with me."

Emily looked at his offered hand and then up into his eyes. That indefinable look was back in them and she felt that nervous fluttering in her stomach again. She didn't know what it all meant and wasn't sure if he did either, but she knew by taking his hand she would be sealing her fate in some way. What way, she wasn't sure. But as her own hand began to rise and grow closer to his, each millimeter it moved, she became more certain it was a path she was destined to take.

His eyes were transfixed on hers so he was only aware of the movement of her hand, but he felt its warmth and softness as she gently placed it into his offered one. Slowly, his larger hand closed over her delicate one, encasing it almost reverently in a warm cocoon of his strength.

"Welcome back, Emily Prentiss," he said quietly.

* * *

**Don't forget that the 2nd Annual Profilers Choice Award for Criminal Minds fiction is now open for nominations. The ballots are found in the discussion forum (when in the list of stories for the CM fan fiction section, look to the top right hand corner of your screen and you'll see a link for "Discussion Forums"), Chit Chat on Authors Corner, 2011 Profilers Choice CM Awards - Nomination Ballot.**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: There's at least another part after this. This part is long. Very long, so it had to be broken up into two parts. To answer a few questions I received: SSAIC stands for "Supervisory Special Agent In Charge" and the reason I said in my author's note for the last part that Jack was not "with Hotch", it meant Jack was not with Hotch at the hospital visiting Emily. I know I keep saying this, but we are winding down to the end of this story, but I've got the sequel mapped out. I hope folks have been enjoying this and if you have a chance, please leave some feedback. Thanks!**

Hotch continued to hold her hand, cradling it in his much larger one and warming it so the heat seemed to travel up her arm and spread through the rest of her body. His features had relaxed into softened lines, making him appear younger. She had never seen him like this before. When she had met him again at the BAU, the toll of the job and his personal life had carved themselves deeply on his face. Guarded, intense and wary were imprinted on his features on a daily basis. The way he was looking at her now, reminded her of that young man she had met long ago at her mother's home whose future had stretched out in endless possibilities before him and he was intent on grabbing it all.

He didn't want to let her hand go. He liked the feel of the soft skin against his calloused palm and fingers. He could feel her begin to withdraw it and he tightened his grip marginally and she stopped. A shy look came into her eyes, making him smile slightly. When she tugged again, he finally let her go. She withdrew her hand slowly, letting it slide across his palm. He felt each of her delicate fingers as they trailed over his skin until only their fingertips were touching. She hesitated a split second, fingertips brushing against fingertips until she dropped her hand by her side.

Hotch cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, what are your next steps? Where are you going tonight?"

Emily frowned, her current dilemma still unsolved. "Well, it's going to take a few days to 'resurrect' me from the dead though I'm told all my funds are intact. But right now, I'm completely broke. I guess I'll have to stay with either my mother or father."

Staying with Jones was out of the question in Hotch's mind and he knew she didn't want to stay with her mother. "I don't think either of those would be the ideal place," he replied.

She shrugged. "I don't have a choice for now. If you could just drop me off at my father's apartment, it's in DC, that would be great."

"No."

She blinked at him. "Uh, well, my mother's house in Alexandria maybe?"

"No. Emily, there's no reason for you to stay with either of your parents. I know that wouldn't be ideal for you."

"Well, are you offering to lend me the money for a hotel room?" she asked, still uncertain what Hotch was getting at.

"I have a better idea. Stay with me. There's a guest room at my house. It'll be quiet. You can recover and no one would think to come looking for you there."

She blinked at him, not believing Aaron Hotchner was offering her a place to stay. "Hotch, that's very kind, but I can't."

"Why not?

"I can't impose."

"I'm the one who invited you. It's not an imposition."

Her eyes softened. "Thank you, but no. Hotch, there's Jack to consider. I think my presence after being gone would just confuse him."

He felt a warmth in his chest hearing her words and seeing the concern in her face for his son's welfare. _This_ was the Emily Prentiss he knew, the woman who cared so deeply for others, especially children and particularly for _his_ child. That was something that would never change and was one of the things that drew him towards her.

"I never told him you were 'dead'. He only knows that you've been away fighting bad guys. Plus he knows you're back. He saw your picture on the news too."

"I'm surprised he remembers me," she said. "He was so small still when I left and it's been so long."

"He talked about you almost every day. Plus, he has a few reminders around." He gave her a secretive grin.

"Reminders? Like what?" Her curiosity was piqued.

"Well, you'll just have to come home with me to find out," he teased. He tilted his head to the side. "Will you stay with me and Jack? Just try it for the night and tomorrow you can think about what needs to be done next in getting your life back."

He held his hand out to her once again. Emily stared at it, worrying her lip. Somehow, this decision seemed to be as big as the one she had just made about returning to the BAU. It was only a place to stay for one night, perhaps a few days at most. It would be no different had JJ or Garcia or Morgan offered her a place to stay, so why did it feel so strange that Hotch was offering? Afterall, it wasn't the first time she had spent the night at Hotch's place. After Foyet's attack, he had needed someone to stay with him those first few days after the hospital because he refused to get a nurse. Initially, the team had agreed to split up the nursing, but it wasn't fair to expect JJ to be apart of it because of Henry, Garcia and Reid were too nervous around Hotch to make any of them comfortable and Morgan was too ham-fisted and his nursing skills might potentially set back the patient's recovery. The work had fallen on Rossi and Emily and after one day, both Rossi and Hotch made it clear that Emily was the best candidate for the job. She never knew what transpired between the two men except for Rossi grunting something about wanting to keep their friendship intact and that meant neither man should be allowed to nurse the other, ever.

Hotch had proven to be a stubborn, sullen patient and Emily was the perfect person to be his nurse simply because she didn't put up with his attitude. It was a trying week and a half, but they both got through it with a minimal amount of awkwardness.

Now, he was purposely inviting her to stay with him and it made her nervous as Hell and she didn't understand why. It was just an offer any friend would make, right?

Hotch waited patiently, but anxiously, for her answer. He knew her options were limited and believed she would agree to at least spend the night at his house. He fully intended to stretch that one night out to several more nights if not weeks. But now was not the time to suggest such an extended stay. One night at a time seemed to be all she could handle at the moment. He needed to proceed carefully. Aaron Hotchner was a patient man and a planner. He knew what he wanted and he will go after whatever it was or whomever it was.

Hesitantly, Emily raised her hand and placed it once more into his offered one. Like before, a sense of peace and ease settled over her when his fingers closed around her hand, enveloping it in his warmth and strength. He smiled at her and pulled her slightly towards him, causing her to take two steps forward until they were only a foot apart.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get out of here."

She thought he would let go of her hand, but to her surprise, he continued to hold it as he moved across the room, pausing only to bend over and pick up her duffle bag with his other hand. He slung it easily over his shoulder and proceeded to lead her out of her hospital room and down the corridor.

Emily was so befuddled by the fact that he continued to hold her hand and as such, she trotted almost obediently after him. When they boarded the elevator, he had actually weaved their fingers together so their hands were even more securely linked. She glanced down at their joined hands with a completely surprised look on her face.

Hotch nearly chuckled aloud at her expression, but settled for a small grin. Holding her hand was initially just a physical way to make sure she didn't bolt, but now, he found he rather liked the feel of her tiny fingers linked with his. It gave him reassurance that she was indeed here with him, warm, alive and not going anywhere ever again if he had anything to say about it. And Aaron Hotchner intended to have a lot to say about Emily Prentiss' future from now on.

When they got to his car, he was forced to reluctantly let her hand go so she could get into the vehicle. He closed the passenger door securely after her and after tossing her bag into the trunk, slid into the driver's seat. When he closed his own door, he turned to look at her and saw her staring at the hand he had been holding with a bemused expression on her face. He couldn't stop a small puff of laughter escaping from him. Emily quickly dropped her hand and turned to glare at him, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Emily threw Hotch an irritated look when she heard something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh from him. He had held her hand for the entire trip from her room down to his car in the parking garage. Why he did it, she still hadn't figured out. He had never done anything like it before. She wasn't even sure if she had even seen Hotch hold anyone's hand besides Jack's. It was definitely the most prolonged physical contact they've ever had and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Are you hungry?" Hotch asked her as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed towards his home. "We're just having mac n' cheese tonight, but if you want something else, we can stop off and pick something up."

She smiled faintly as her stomach rumbled. Hotch heard the sound and quirked an eyebrow at her, his eyes lighting up in delight when he saw her blush. Really, a pink-cheeked Emily Prentiss was a sight he definitely could get used to seeing.

"Macaroni and cheese sounds absolutely delicious to me," she replied quietly. "It's been a while since I've had it."

The wistful tone in her voice told him she was thinking of her time away and for the hundredth time he wondered what she had faced during those days. He suppressed the urge to ask her what had happened while she gone, how she had survived, who had taken care of her, if anyone. He knew it was too soon and she would simply shut down and his questions would never be answered. But he did intend to have answers one day. He intended to learn about all of Emily Prentiss' secrets.

Instead, he said in an easy tone of voice. "Mac n' cheese it is. Jessica made it. It's absolutely delicious. I also think there might be brownies for dessert."

"Sounds great," she murmured as she turned to look out the window. The sun had begun to set causing the sky to run a mixture of oranges, purples and reds across it's canvas. The temperature had dropped too. Emily lacked a coat, Garcia only having brought her a sweater. Hotch noticed her shivering and wordlessly turned on the heat in the car.

They rode in silence as the miles melted away, Hotch occasionally glancing over at his companion who continued to look out the window at the passing scenery that gradually was fading from sight as night came quickly upon them.

"Tell me about Jack," he heard her ask softly. "What's he been doing since I've been gone?"

"Jack is a very big boy now," he began proudly. "He's on a soccer team."

"Soccer, really?" she turned to look at him now, shifting her body so she was turned towards him, her back to the window.

"Uh huh, and you might not believe this, but I'm the coach and Rossi is the assistant coach."

"You and Rossi are coaching Jack's pee wee soccer team?" Her eyes glittered in amusement. "Well, you two must make for an intimidating pair. I doubt any parent get out of line with the two of you coaching."

"Oh trust me, the FBI badge, means zilch to those parents. If little David, named by the way after David Beckham, doesn't get the amount of playing time his mother thinks he should get, I definitely hear about it." He proceeded to regale her with some of the more amusing and exciting times from Jack's games.

He was pleased seeing her chuckle at some of the stories and the interest in her face until he noticed she started to look sad. Concerned, he looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

Emily waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing, don't worry about."

"Emily."

He could put such meaning in just her name. She wondered how he did that. She sighed, knowing he wouldn't leave it alone. "It's nothing, really, just…well, I was thinking of the passage of time. How much I missed and can't get back."

Hotch wanted to reach out and hold her hand again, but he noticed she kept them close to her side as though trying to avoid another hand holding episode. He settled for patting her knee comfortingly.

"I think it just means that you shouldn't waste any more time, Emily. Which means, as soon as you feel you're ready, you should get back to work and back to living your life."

She gave a rueful chuckle. "You know, before Doyle came back, my work was my life. I thought I was satisfied with it but now…"

Hotch noticed with disappointment that her voice trailed off. He wanted to hear what else she had to say. Did she have hopes and dreams for something else besides her career? Someone in her life? A family? What?

But she had twisted back around to look our the passenger side window again and her body language clearly told him she wasn't going to continue that conversation. At least not now. He was going to find out the answer one way or another. After all, he was one of the FBI's most skilled interrogators.

The rest of the trip to Hotch's home was made in silence, though it wasn't completely uncomfortable or awkward. He noticed that as they made their way through the streets of Arlington that Emily began to look around her with growing interest and curiosity.

"When did you buy a house out here?"

"About a year ago," he replied as he turned into a quiet neighborhood of old, spacious, yet still somewhat modest homes. It was dark by now but the nineteenth century street lamps that had been wired for electricity cast warm circles that showed neat lawns, large towering trees and occasional picket fences. Lights from homes lit up scenes of ordinary family life as people sat down for dinner or children doing their homework or watching TV.

It was all so normal, so Americana that in some ways, Emily had a hard time envisioning Hotch living here. Given the nature of his work and his incredible talent for it, he was anything but ordinary. Coupled with his intensity, drive and determination, this bucolic setting seemed out of character for him. And yet it also seemed to suit him too.

While he was all of those things, Hotch was also a loving father, a man who cared and felt deeply for family and Emily could see him wanting to give this type of life to Jack. And this setting would also serve as a retreat for himself as well; a place where he could escape the horrors that they dealt with on a daily basis and renew and re-energize himself.

He pulled into the driveway of a two story house with a stone path that led to the front door. It was dark, so she couldn't see too many details though the lights from within clearly illuminated a bay window. She got out of the car before he could come around to help her and noticed a few feet off her left a trellis where a pink climbing rose grew thickly. She looked at it in surprise, seeing the abundance and vigor of the blooms for so late in the year.

Hotch removed her duffle bag from the trunk and looked at her. He tilted his head, "Shall we?"

She nodded and followed him as he led the way. His hand had itched to take hers again but he noticed she had folded her arms across her chest, as though to ward off the cold, but he suspected it was also partly to make sure there wasn't a repeat of what happened earlier. Hotch smothered a disappointed sigh, _One step forward, two steps back_.

He opened the front door and let her in, following close behind her. He locked the door and called out, "Jessica? Jack?"

Haley's sister popped out of the kitchen and crossed the living room towards them. Her wide smile showed nothing but happiness when she saw who was with Hotch.

"Agent Prentiss!" she greeted in a friendly and warm tone. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Jessica and Emily had only met a few times before, but Hotch's sister-in-law had liked the other woman very much. She saw the impression the brunette had made on her nephew and while Aaron might not have been aware of the times his eyes had lingered on his subordinate, Jessica certainly had been. She had also seen the devastation wrecked on the man when they had all thought Emily Prentiss was killed two years ago. The transformation he had undergone since they had found out she was alive had been nothing short of miraculous. Aaron moved with purpose again. His steps were firmer, his face set in determined lines. He seemed stronger, more decisive than he had been in a while. But more than anything, Jessica had seen something else in his eyes that had been missing even before Emily Prentiss left and even before Haley died: hope. For the first time in years, Jessica knew that Aaron was actually thinking beyond of the present because he had hope that something better was in the future. She knew that he thought that something better was Emily Prentiss.

"I saw the news," Jessica said. "Well, I think everyone has seen it by now. Aaron explained to me that not even the team knew about your secret mission. My God, the sacrifices you made." She looked admiringly at Emily.

Prentiss felt like a fraud. This good woman was praising her for some heroic act when heroism and her country had nothing to do with it, or at least, were not among her main objectives. She wanted Doyle gone because of the threat he posed to her and those closest to her. That she was ridding the world of dangerous terrorist had been secondary in her mind. But now thanks to the lovely PR spinning machine, she seemed to be this noble agent intent on saving the world. She looked over at Hotch for help, but he merely looked at her impassively, giving her no indication of what he thought or felt, or any sign of helping her out with Jessica.

Fortunately, Jack decided that moment to make an appearance, smoothing over the awkwardness Emily felt with Haley's sister, but throwing her into a whole other minefield.

"Emmy!" the little boy screamed out in excitement. He hurled himself at the woman, a tiny missile that nearly knocked her over.

"Jack!" Hotch reprimand sharply as he saw Emily teeter, but not fall. He moved forward hastily to help her steady herself, but she waved him off. "Be careful. Emily isn't feeling well."

His arms still around her legs, the little boy looked up contritely at the woman. "I'm sorry, Emmy. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She laughed lightly, a lump inexplicably forming in her throat from the innocent and loving greeting the child had given her. She ruffled his hair and pulled him back towards her in a hug. "Its okay, Jack, because that's the bestest hello I've ever had."

The boy grinned into her legs as he hugged her tightly. Hotch was mesmerized by the sight of the two of them together. His son was gazing adoringly at Emily while she had the most tender, softest look on her face he had ever seen. He watched as her hand came up to gently ruffle the boy's hair as her other hand rubbed circles on his back. Her sweet smile pierced him directly in his heart which seemed to stutter as his breath caught. Hotch thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than what was before him now.

Jessica watched the completely besotted look fall over Aaron's face and nearly snorted in laughter. While the man had a reputation far and wide of having the best poker face, right now, he wouldn't be able to fool a blind man. To say that Aaron was completely and totally gone would have been an understatement. With a pang, Jessica couldn't even recall if he had ever looked at Haley in that way. Maybe he had, but she hadn't seen it. However, that was no one's fault and Jessica held no resentment towards the woman here nor her brother-in-law. If Emily Prentiss made Aaron happy, Jessica would whole-heartedly support them in any way possible. Quietly, she began to gather her coat and purse.

"Well, there's a lot of extra mac n' cheese in the oven and some salad in the fridge. There's also a plate of brownies. Jack's eaten already so don't believe him when he says he hasn't had dessert," she said all this in low tone to Hotch.

He snapped out of his Emily-induced haze and focused in on Jessica who was staring at him in amusement. He could feel the beginnings of heat in his cheeks, knowing that Jessica had caught him gazing far too interestedly in the brunette.

"You don't have to leave," he said when he saw her in her coat.

At his words, Emily looked up at them. "Yes, Jessica, please don't leave on my account."

She looked at them in amusement. While she wasn't sure about Emily, Jessica knew for certain that Aaron's attention would be completely focused on the woman before them. He didn't need her around to cramp his style.

"Well, as much as I loved to hear whatever you can tell me about this Ian Doyle mission, I'm sure it's really exciting, I actually need to get home. Aaron, remember, I can't help out with Jack tomorrow, I have that trip I'm taking with Steven." Steven was Jessica's new boyfriend and they were going out of town for a long weekend.

Hotch nodded. "I remember. I'm still off until Monday, so it won't be a problem. Here, I'll walk you out."

Jessica said good night to Emily and Jack. Hotch escorted her to her car and watched as she backed out of his driveway and drove off. He watched the taillights of her compact car until they vanished from sight before he went back inside.

By the time he went back into the house, Jack had Emily sitting on the couch and was chattering away at her, trying to cram all two years she had been gone into five minutes. She looked at the little boy with a dazed smile on her face as she tried to keep up with his rapid-fire and disjointed narration.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you slow down? You'll have plenty of time to talk to Emily. She's going to be staying here with us for a while."

"Really?" the little boy asked excitedly.

She turned startled and annoyed eyes towards Hotch who merely lifted his eyebrows at her. He had effectively boxed her into staying with him at least a few days though she had only agreed to one night. Now, she had to stay a few days or disappoint Jack, and Hotch knew she would never do that to the little boy. She narrowed her eyes at him a little. She had wondered if Hotch and the others would have changed over the last two years and knew now that he had at least; he was a lot sneakier and underhanded now. Emily wasn't sure if she liked these changes because it made him far too unpredictable to her, not knowing what game he was up to.

"Just for a few days, sweetie," Emily smiled at Jack, disguising the unkind thoughts she was harboring against the boy's father at that moment. "At least until I find a new apartment.

"Yeah!" the boy cheered, drawing a chuckle from the adults.

Hotch mentally gave himself a pat on the back on his accomplishment. He knew from the look she was throwing at him over Jack's head that Emily was not happy with him, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit of a thrill knowing she would be in his house for a few days at least. He also had to admit, it was fun out maneuvering Emily Prentiss. He felt an odd little thrill in his heart and he recognized it as something he hadn't felt in years: the thrill of the chase.

"Daddy, can I show Emily her room?" Jack asked excitedly.

Hotch was pulled from his musings and nodded his head. He watched in amusement as Jack tugged on Emily's hand to get her up and moving. When he saw her wince slightly in getting up, he had to admonish his son again.

"Jack, remember, Emily's been hurt so be careful with her."

A concerned look came over Jack's face. "My Daddy got hurt. Was that where you got hurt, Emmy?"

Their eyes met over the head of the little boy and for a moment, they were both back in that room where Emily was frightened that one of her friends would die before her eyes and Hotch was watching a replay of her beating and falling over the edge with Doyle. It would be a long time before either of them would stop re-living those moments.

She crouched down so she was eye level with the boy. He stared solemnly back at her with his father's knowing eyes. "Yes, Jack. That bad man I was looking for hurt both me and your Daddy. He was going to hurt me in a very bad way. But you know what happened? Your Daddy saved me." She looked up at the man in question. "He did what he does best."

Hotch smiled warmly at her and she returned it shyly. Jack's chest puffed up proudly and he declared. "Daddy's Superman."

The adults chuckled and Emily nodded her head. "It does seem like that sometimes."

"Come on, Emmy, I have to show you your room." Jack pulled on her hand, much more gently this time and she followed him, brushing past Hotch with her eyes downcast. Hotch turned on his heel and followed them up the stairs to the guest room.

When Jack threw open the guest bedroom door and flicked the switch to turn on one of the lamps that illuminated the room, Emily could see there wasn't anything notable about the room. It was plainly furnished with a double bed, a chair, a writing table, dresser and two night stands on either side of the bed. A small, framed black and white photograph of Washington, DC hung on the wall. The curtains and bedspread were a blue plaid. It was neat, clean and serviceable. Jack though was bouncing on his toes, eager for Emily's reaction.

She smiled and said, "It's very nice."

"But don't you _see_, Emmy?" he asked. He pulled on her hand again and led her over to one side of the bed.

As she got closer and from this different angle, she did see what he was excited about and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

Taped to the wall where a small cluster of photographs of her from Jack's birthday party over two years ago. One was of her alone, gazing off into the distance, unaware anyone had been taking a photo. Another showed her with Jack sitting in her lap. The third was of her with the Hotchner boys and taken right when she and Hotch happened to turn their heads to each other so it looked as if they were smiling into each other's eyes. She could tell from the tape on the photos that they had been up for a while.

"See, Emmy? Remember how you said there wasn't enough room at Daddy and mine's apartment for you to live in? Now we've got a house and you've got your own room!"

She racked her brain for a memory of that conversation and remembered it had happened at the birthday party when they were packing up to go home. She gazed down at the little boy, surprised he remembered that small discussion. Emily turned to look at Hotch who stood in the doorway watching them.

"When we moved in, he declared this was your room. That picture of you, it was the first one to go up. He added the other two later on."

She didn't know what to say and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She had wondered if anyone would remember her when she came back or even think of her fondly anymore. Would her presence bring too much pain to those she loved? The answers to those questions were still unknown, but she knew Jack Hotchner's answers. He had never forgotten her and he did think of her fondly the entire time she was gone. She felt the unconditional acceptance and love that only the truly innocent could give and it threatened to overwhelm her.

"Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her voice shaky from the powerful emotions she was experiencing.

The little boy was pleased by her reaction and beamed up at her, though Hotch gazed at her with concern that she was finding all this too overwhelming. Before anyone could say anything else, a black bundle leapt onto the bed and emitted a plaintive, "meow".

Emily jumped slightly and then stared wide-eyed into a familiar pair of eyes. "Sergio!" She reached forward to pet the cat who immediately arched under her hand and began to purr.

"Jack was actually the one who remembered him," Hotch explained as he set her duffle bag inside the room. "He had to fight Garcia to be the one to take care of him. She demanded visitation rights though."

"Oh Serge," she whispered as she sat on the bed and drew the cat to her. The feline purred loudly as she held him close to her and he nuzzled her chin with his head. She turned a watery gaze towards Jack. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"You're welcome," he said in a proud voice. "Me and Sergio are best friends. He likes Daddy too. Though he doesn't like Uncle Derek."

She heard Hotch snort in laughter. "Yeah, we found out Morgan isn't a cat person."

Jack had reached out to stroke Sergio's fur and the cat turned his head to look at the little boy and gave him a friendly "meow". "Sergio is a great cat. He likes to sleep on my bed. But since you're back, I think it's probably best if he sleeps with you."

Though he tried to hide it, Emily could see the sadness in Jack's eyes at the thought he might be losing the comforting presence of the cat. She felt a sharp pain in her heart when she saw the little boy's distress. She released her hold on the cat, allowing him to sprawl bonelessly on her lap and she reached out to draw the boy closer.

"You've taken such good care of Sergio while I was away, I don't think he's had time to miss me," she said. "I've got a lot of things I'm going to have to do in the next few weeks and I need to know that I can still rely on you to help me take care of him. Can you do that for me, Jack?"

The child's eyes lit up hopefully, knowing that the cat will still be around and in some ways still his for a while. "Really?"

Emily nodded. "I think by now we can say we're both Sergio's family." She held out her hand as if to seal a deal with Jack. "Right?"

He took the offered hand and shook it seriously. "Right."

Amused and more than a little touched by the interaction between Emily and his son, Hotch felt the need to intervene. "Hey buddy, I think it's time you get ready for bed. It's past your bedtime."

"Oh Daddy, do I have to?" Jack whined. "Emmy just got here."

"She'll be here tomorrow too, Buddy. You guys can talk then. And you have school tomorrow and I don't want you falling asleep in Miss Petersen's class."

"Your Dad is right," Emily said. "We can talk tomorrow. Why don't you take Sergio with you?"

Jack picked up the cat and started to move from the room. He paused in the doorway and then with a look that reminded her so much of his father, he turned and said, "You will be here tomorrow morning?"

She felt that claw of uncertainty and fear within her that seemed to whisper to her to just cut and run. She could feel Hotch's eyes boring in the back of her head as he waited for her answer. She smiled at the boy and said, "I'll be here tomorrow. I promise."

Satisfied, Jack said good night and went to his room. After a moment, she heard Hotch excuse himself to tuck Jack in before he too left, leaving her alone in the guest room.

* * *

**A/N 2: ****Don't forget that the 2nd Annual Profilers Choice Award for Criminal Minds fiction is now open for nominations. The ballots are found in the discussion forum (when in the list of stories for the CM fan fiction section, look to the top right hand corner of your screen and you'll see a link for "Discussion Forums"), Chit Chat on Authors Corner, 2011 Profilers Choice CM Awards - Nomination Ballot.**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: I am sorry for the delay and the continuing parts. No, this isn't the last part simply because things are going on long and, sigh, blame one Aaron Hotchner. He's thrown the proverbial monkey wrench into things by not allowing me to write what I had originally planned which is why things are taking longer to end and stuff developing way faster than I had intended. I do think the next part after this will be the last part and if it isn't, it just means there will be a short epilogue after it. But I'm pretty sure there's only one more part (or one more part and a short epilogue) left. Thanks for sticking with this story and I hope folks have been enjoying it. If you have a chance, please leave a review. Thanks!**

For a few minutes, Emily simply sat there. While she would never admit it aloud, she was tired. She was fine to be released, but she recognized she was still weak and in some pain. It would take at least a few weeks of rest and rehab before she was fully well. She attributed it to nearly two years of being on the run and constantly on the alert for her weakened state than the injuries she had received during her fight with Doyle. Those had been relatively minor, the wear and tear on her while living in hiding had not. All of it was finally catching up to her.

Slowly, she stood and went to her duffle bag that Hotch had considerately placed on the bed. Despite his insistence she stay for a few days, she only took out the things she needed for the night: her pajamas and some toiletries. She would not unpack her meager belongings. It would seem too permanent and right now, she did not want to feel that way in the Hotchner home. She set her toiletries on the dresser, the pajamas on the bed and then slowly made her way out into the hall.

Emily paused for a moment, to get her bearings. The guest bedroom was situated at one end of the hall at the front of the house and near the staircase. She looked down at the other end and saw several closed doors and one door that was half opened. Light spilled into the hallway from the room and she could hear Hotch's deep voice. She realized that had to be Jack's room and her former boss was tucking his son in for the night, likely with a bedtime story.

She continued towards the stairs and descended. Back in the living room, she felt uncertain about what to do so she simply sat down on the couch to wait for Hotch. She looked around her surroundings, noting the leather chairs, the color scheme of blues and tans. A smile curved Emily's lips. It was quite obvious two males lived here and one was a neat freak. While there were a few toys, they were stacked neatly in a corner. Everything else was organized and in place, down to the remote for the TV being centered on the coffee table. Somehow, she suspected it wasn't Jack with the tidy habits. Slowly, she pushed herself up and went over to the bookcase and began to examine the titles there.

The children's books were on the lower shelves where Jack could reach them so she concentrated on the upper levels. It was obvious Hotch had a taste for the classics. Dickens, Steinbeck, Hugo, Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, Shakespeare. The last one surprised her a little but then she remembered his taste for the theater, something Haley had instilled in him. Funny, all these years and she didn't know what he liked to read.

The spines were cracked and worn, indicating they had been read many times over. Her finger trailed over the titles. _Grapes of Wrath_, _David Copperfield_, _The Great Gatsby_. She stopped when she came to _The Divine Comedy_. Emily sucked in her breath and the hand that had been lightly touching the books curled into a fist.

"Jack must have been pretty tired, he went down so easily."

Hotch's voice startled her and Emily whipped around to stare at him, her hand still clenched. His eyes widened when he took in the panicky look in her eye and the tension in her face.

"What is it?" he asked sharply, his senses suddenly on alert. Was some danger nearby? He looked around cautiously. "What's wrong?"

He saw her struggle to get control of her emotions and then suddenly she did, and her face calmed and her eyes went blank, hiding whatever had set her off just a moment ago. He frowned as he saw this transformation happen before his eyes and he had to fight the urge to grab her and demand that she tell him what had frightened her.

"Nothing," she replied smoothly. "You just startled me. New surroundings and all, I'm a little jumpy."

It was a plausible answer, but it was also an outright lie. He debated whether or not to push her, but decided that it would only drive her further into her shell. Emily was already annoyed with him for backing her into a corner on the accommodations.

"I don't mean to be pushy, but I am hungry," she said.

Hotch nodded, but she could see he was still regarding her thoughtfully. She slid past him, heading for the kitchen. "You promised me homemade mac n' cheese," she called back over her shoulder trying to make her voice sound as light as possible.

He made an affirmative grunting noise, his eyes fixed on the bookcase. She might have been startled by his sudden appearance, but Hotch suspected there was something else that had caught her eye and triggered some unpleasant association for Emily. He glanced at the bookcase, seeing nothing out of place. It simply held books. If it was something here, it had to be a specific book title, but which one?

"Hey Hotch! Where do you keep your dinner plates?"

Her voice disrupted his perusal of the bookshelf, but he gave it one more thoughtful look before he went to the kitchen to help her prepare two plates for themselves.

* * *

She had been hungry until she saw the book. Emily was disgusted with herself. It was just a book. She shouldn't have had that type of reaction to it. But just the sight of it brought back so many memories that they had threatened to overwhelm her. She knew this was partly the events of the last two years catching up to her. Her usual defenses and protections were shaken or down. She was tired, hurting and uncertain about her future. This left her vulnerable and Emily Prentiss hated feeling vulnerable. So when she saw the book, it had triggered something inside of her and she felt that fear all over again.

Hotch watched her over the rim of his water glass as he took a sip. She had taken a few bites, but done little more than push her food around her plate. She was obviously still upset and it was affecting her appetite, something Hotch didn't think she could afford to lose. He had noted she was much thinner and when he had his hands on her shoulders earlier, he could feel every bone underneath the layer of clothing and skin. In more ways than one, he was glad Doyle was dead now. Hotch wasn't sure how much longer Emily would have lasted on her own.

"I thought you said you were hungry," he commented with a nod to her almost full plate.

"Just saving room for the brownies," she said with forced cheer. By the look on his face, Emily knew he wasn't fooled. "I guess I'm not used to eating something so rich and fatty. I'm filling up faster than I thought I would."

His silent look was more eloquent than anything he could have said. Hotch simply didn't believe her and knew she was still upset by whatever had happened earlier. Emily forced herself to eat a few more forkfuls of the pasta, nearly choking down the food, just to make Hotch ease up on the examination and for something to do so she wouldn't have to look into those all-seeing eyes. She knew those intense, probing orbs were dissecting every look, every action she took and she'd be damned before anyone ever found out about _that_. It was irrelevant. It was in the past, long buried and dead, and unlike Doyle, it could have absolutely no impact on them today. Anyone that was a concern was long gone.

So there was no need to probe or ask questions. The entire thing simply needed to be packed away and stored in the deepest, darkest corner, never to be exposed to light ever again. Maybe all she needed was a simple night's rest. She had probably done too much today. That was the answer. She was tired. Tomorrow she would be in more control.

It was fascinating to watch her and he would have been interested in the entire process from a behavioralist's standpoint if he hadn't found it frustrating to the extreme. Before his very eyes, he could see Emily Prentiss meticulously build her protective walls brick by brick. Something had happened to her in his living room when he was putting Jack to bed. In that short period of time, the woman who had been wary, but still open in some ways was suddenly erecting barricades at the speed of light.

How was this going to work? There were already trust issues among the team, if Emily went back in full self-preservation mode with obvious barriers in place, the team wouldn't know when to trust her. They would never be able to function as a unit. There would always be doubts from the others that she was hiding yet something else. Those suspicions would grow and fester and then they would inadvertently and then deliberately isolate her, causing even more distance.

And nevermind how the team was going to get around the walls, how was _he_? Just an hour ago, he had felt confident he was on the right path to getting to know Emily Prentiss better, much better, and getting her to trust _him_, but now? She had all but wrapped barbed wire around herself.

The silence between them stretched and he could see Emily was growing more and more nervous. Hotch knew he had to try to salvage things somehow, but how, he wasn't sure. Just as she had picked at her food, so did he. As he pushed his macaroni around on his plate he tried to think of what he could say to at the very least get her to stop pulling away from him.

He didn't know why he said it, but the words simply slipped out.

"When you're ready."

"What?" Emily turned startled eyes towards him. "What did you say?"

He was surprised himself, but the words just seemed to flow from some place deep within him. She could not mistake the sincerity and sentiment behind them at all.

"When you're ready, Emily." He looked directly into her eyes. "When you're ready to tell me whatever is bothering you, I'll be here. No matter what, Emily, I'm not going anywhere. I will always be here for you."

She felt her breathing stutter. It wasn't so much the words, but the look on his face. Her former supervisor was always stoic and inscrutable, only letting emotions peak out every now and then. The most emotional she had ever seen him was when he found Haley dead and after he had beaten Foyet to death. Now, he seemed so bare and exposed and the emotion she saw on his face…well, she wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it both excited and frightened her, like she had been in the hospital earlier that evening.

He was waiting for her to say something. Emily licked her lips and saw his eyes flick down towards them. The color of his eyes shifted and this time, the feeling he produced within her was of heat. She felt her cheeks begin to warm and she had to lower her eyes to her plate.

"You might be waiting a long time," she murmured at last.

"I'm a patient man," he replied. "And it'll be well worth the wait."

She looked up quickly, surprised by his words. Who was this man? Hotch had never been this personal, this _intimate_ with her before. Immediately, she wondered if this was some trick. Some trap he was trying to lure her into. She dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come to her. This was _Hotch_, he wouldn't be playing those games with her. Or would he? It had been two years, and someone could change a lot in that time. She felt as though she had.

"I know it'll take time to trust me," he continued, almost as if he was reading her mind. Emily found it incredibly disconcerting. When had Aaron Hotchner been able to read her so well?

Any other time he would have been amused by the surprise and frustration he saw in Emily's eyes. He knew he had been reading her correctly by the ever changing emotions reflected in those bright orbs. However, now was not the time to chortle over his accomplishment of being able to decipher the inscrutable cipher that is Emily Prentiss. What he needed was for her to know that she could trust him with anything and that he wasn't going to go anywhere. He needed her to know that he was her safe haven, a place where she could always run to, no questions asked.

He could tell from the tight lines around her mouth and the clenched hand she had in her lap that she thought she was successfully hiding from him, that Emily was just barely hanging on. He racked his brain trying to think of some way to make her relax, to have a little faith in him.

Hotch suddenly stood up. Neither of them were going to eat anymore. He placed his napkin on the table and crossed over to where Emily sat, warily watching him. Once again, he held out his hand to her. She stared at it a moment and then looked up at him in confusion.

"Take my hand," he said softly.

She wondered what he was up to and was once again confused by this insistence on some type of physical contact, namely, holding hands. It was so out of character for him that she didn't know how to react to it and she was once again left there staring dumbly at the offered hand as he patiently waited for her to do something.

And that was when it hit her. She realized that Hotch had shown nothing but patience with her. It was as if he was trying to coax her from her hiding place like he would some frightened animal. Maybe that was exactly what she was. Perhaps in her time away, she had become this feral creature, wary and suspicious of everyone and everything. Hasn't she been constantly dissecting Hotch's motives since he came to her hospital room hours earlier? Hotch, a man who she knew was honest and honorable who had never had an ulterior motive for his actions. Maybe she was being overly paranoid. Faking your death and living a lie for two years would do that to a person.

But yet, here was this same upstanding man, not judging her, not chastising her, but patiently waiting for her to come to him on her own terms, on her own timetable. He still stood there with his hand held out to her, no sign that he felt awkward or uncomfortable with it still hanging in the air. He simply was waiting for her.

And the hand, the hand holding that confused her so much, Emily realized that it was the first prolonged physical contact she's had with another human being in two years that didn't involve violence or medical treatment. Was it simply meant to be reassurance? Comfort? Was that what she was getting from him? Emily wasn't certain. She had been so confused by what Hotch's motives might be that she wasn't sure what anything meant anymore. She looked at him, confusion written on her face.

He gave her a slight smile. "Take my hand," he repeated simply. "I promise it'll be okay."

Tentatively, she placed her small hand onto his palm and his much larger hand engulfed hers. He tugged her gently to her feet and then led her to the front door. He let go of her hand and picked up one of his jackets that hung on a peg and placed it gently around her shoulders where it completely engulfed her. He adjusted it, making sure it was on securely and that she would be warm and protected from the cold. He took her hand again, opened the front door and led her out in to the cool night. She looked at him with a puzzled frown as he led her to the side of the house. If not for Jack sleeping upstairs, she thought he was going to drive her somewhere but instead, he stopped by the trellis she had noticed earlier.

In the moonlight the riot of pink roses that climbed over the trellis seemed to glow. Emily could see they were large, old-fashioned roses, a breed she did not recognize. She looked inquiringly at Hotch.

"Pink roses," he said. "When I was looking for a house for me and Jack, we found this one. Except thinking this trellis and the roses looked nice, I didn't give this feature of the house much thought. After moving in, I found myself looking at it every day. Beyond the fact that they were pink and roses, I didn't know anything about them. I'm told it's an old fashioned breed, but what kind, no one seems to know. It doesn't exist anywhere else that I know of, most people preferring the hybridized versions available in nurseries. For some reason, they've become important to me and one of my favorite things about the house. I don't know how or when or why, they just sort of snuck up on me."

She tilted her head towards the roses. "This? Really? I never took you for a gardener, Hotch."

He gave her a small grin. "I'm not. But they're so unusual. They bloom all year round, even in the winter there's at least a couple of flowers. It's so unique. I can't imagine this house without it. It's like this rose is sort of a symbol of home for me and Jack."

Emily nodded her head. She understood how people could associate certain things with home or comfort and Hotch obviously had done that with the rose, but she had no idea what they were doing out here in the cold and why he was telling her any of this. She decided to simply let him continue if only to stop him from giving her any more probing looks like he had throughout dinner. Besides, it was nice to see a little into the soul of Aaron Hotchner.

"One day," he continued. "It was just a few months ago in the beginning of summer, I was coming home from a case. Really bad, a family annihilator. He took out six families before we caught him. I got back earlier than I thought and Jack was spending the night with Jessica. It was hot, one of the hottest days ever here in Virginia and I was bone tired. You know how after some cases you just want to shower over and over again? This was one of those times and the heat didn't help. The entire time it was running through my head, how much longer can I do this? How much more evil can I face and still come out with my insanity? You know how that is. In this job, we've all had days like that. This day was particularly bad for me.

"So, I get out of my car and I stop for a moment just to lean against it and think about those families we couldn't save and then I could smell it, the fragrance of these roses. The heat magnified the scent, but even now, in this cold air, you can smell them.

"Just like that, my anger, my sorrow, my malaise seemed to melt away because when I was in a deep funk, this rose pulled me out of it. It reminded me of Jack, home, everything that is good and why I do what I do. But you know what else this rose reminded me of?"

Emily shook her head, still confused as to the point of this entire story.

"You."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Me? Why would this flower remind you of me?"

"Well, I could go for the obvious and say it's because of your middle name, "Rose", but how well do you know your Greek mythology. Rhodanthe and Apollo?"

"Apollo turned Rhodanthe into a pink rose," she said slowly as she tried to remember the old story.

Hotch nodded. "My neighbor is a rose enthusiast has given me all the in's and out's on what a pink rose means. One story associated with it is Rhodanthe and Apollo. Rhodanthe tried to be the protector of women and Apollo thought it was an insult to his sister Diana. He turned her into a rose." He put his hands on Emily's shoulders and turned her towards him. "That's why this rose reminded me of you, Emily. Protector of those who cannot protect themselves. On that day when I was at a low point, this strange, beautiful rose reminded me of what was important in my life and of someone very important to me who I thought I had lost. It gave me strength, Emily. You gave me strength. In that moment you protected me."

She was blinking at him in surprise and confusion, not sure what to make of what he was telling her. In the moonlight, she could only make out a few of his features, but she thought his eyes glittered with that same intensity they had back at the hospital, that emotion that she couldn't identify but definitely made her stomach twist in knots. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"It's because I know you feel things are closing in around you, that you're alone in all this, but you're not, Emily. You never have been and you never will be. Just like I wasn't alone that summer. You were there with me in some way. Maybe not physically, but I definitely felt your presence. Now you need someone and I want to reassure you that I am here for you. I know you're frightened, uncertain, but you don't have to hide any of that from me. You've been there for me before, Emily. It's my turn to be there for you. Will you let me do that for you?"

She simply stared at him with stunned eyes. This intensely private, standoffish man had just opened up to her in a way she wasn't sure he had to anyone else before. Maybe to Haley, but unlikely to anyone else. He had exposed his own vulnerabilities in the hopes that she would feel that she could do the same with him. Emily realized Hotch was offering her a lifeline. Not matter how much things might hit the fan in the days, weeks, maybe even months that followed, he would stand by her side, never judging, never criticizing.

"Do you know what you're signing up for?" she asked in a low, hesitant voice.

"Absolutely," he replied quietly.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and looked up into his face. His usually coldly handsome features were settled into kind lines, an expression he only had for his son. Slowly she nodded her head. This caused him to give her a full smile, one that gleamed in the moonlight and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Things will get better, Emily, I promise." She nodded her head vaguely and he could see she didn't fully believe him right now.

Hotch reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. He selected one of the blades and then reached past Emily towards the roses. Carefully, he cut one of them, a fat blossom that was only half-opened but when in full bloom will be almost as large as one of his hands. He carefully stripped off the thorns with the knife blade before he handed it to her.

"Do you know what other meaning a pink rose has?" Emily bent her head over the flower to inhale the sweet fragrance. She shook her head.

His hand went under her chin so she was looking into his eyes when he told her:

"Please, believe me."

* * *

**A/N 2:** **Honestly, Hotch and Emily weren't supposed to be at this point just yet, but Hotch kept pushing me to go here. I keep seeing Hotch as someone who once he's settled on what he wants, or thinks he might want, he's not going to hold back, he's going to go after it. I always thought of the two of them, Prentiss would be the more skittish one. So things are progressing a little faster than I had originally planned, that's why I say blame Hotch. He keeps saying I can't write him as being indecisive and holding back once he's figured out what he might want. ****Don't forget that the 2nd Annual Profilers Choice Award for Criminal Minds fiction is now open for nominations. The ballots are found in the discussion forum (when in the list of stories for the CM fan fiction section, look to the top right hand corner of your screen and you'll see a link for "Discussion Forums"), Chit Chat on Authors Corner, 2011 Profilers Choice CM Awards - Nomination Ballot.**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Oh my God, can you believe it? This IS the LAST PART! I've said it often enough, there will be a sequel, but "Reckoning" is at an end. I truly hope folks have enjoyed the ride, I know I've had fun writing it even if there have been a few monkey wrenches along the way. I just hate it when characters don't behave and force me to alter plans. Thank you to everyone who has provided feedback and stuck with this story. It's no way even close to what Criminal Minds has planned for Season 7, so definitely an AU. I hope folks have enjoyed the ride and hope you'll come back for the sequel.**

She hadn't needed an alarm clock in a while. At 5:45 am, Emily woke up and was disoriented for a moment or two, not immediately recognizing her surroundings. It was still dark in the room and for a second, fear gripped her. But then the events of last night came back to her and she relaxed, realizing she was in Hotch's guest bedroom. She reached over and switched on the bedside lamp.

The soft glow of the light made her blink and when her eyes adjusted they landed on the pink rose Hotch had given her. It sat in a small water glass on the nightstand. Sometime in the night it had opened up some more so it was almost at full bloom. The single rose perfumed the air with its sweet scent. She inhaled deeply and felt her body relax a little more.

After they had gone back into the house, she had offered to help him with the dinner dishes, but Hotch had insisted that she go to bed. They both knew she was exhausted and she had offered little argument. While she was in the bathroom, Hotch had been in her room and placed her rose in a glass. The small gesture had made her smile and she went to bed with her eyes on the flower before sleep overcame her.

Emily slipped on her bathrobe and slippers and after a quick trip to the bathroom, padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She hadn't eaten much last night and she was very hungry. She found a surprise waiting for her when she walked into the kitchen.

Jack was pushing a stool over to one of the cabinets. He looked up when he heard her step and then gave her a toothy grin. In a loud whisper he said, "Morning, Emmy."

"Good morning, Jack?" she said in a low voice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get some cereal but we have to be quiet so we don't wake up Daddy," the young Hotchner said.

"Hmmm," Emily opened the cabinet that Jack had indicated and winced when she saw the sugary concoction Jack was zeroing in on. She couldn't believe Hotch, Mr. Anti-Junk Food at the Office, was letting Jack eat this stuff. "Hey, how about we make Daddy some breakfast?"

"Cereal?" Jack asked.

"Uh, how about pancakes?"

"Yeah! With lots of syrup and strawberries!" Jack hopped excitedly up and down.

"Well, let's see what you have first," Emily replied as she opened up the refrigerator door. She saw a little green plastic basket of strawberries, some eggs and milk and after rooting through the pantry, pulled out some pancake mix. "I think we can make some strawberry pancakes."

* * *

Hotch was pulled from his sleep by the heavenly smell of breakfast cooking. He slowly opened his eyes and his nose sniffed appreciatively. He sat up in bed and inhaled again, detecting the smells of coffee, bacon and pancakes. His stomach rumbled and it was enough to get him out of bed.

He slipped a sweat shirt over his t-shirt and padded down stairs, his bare feet making his approach a silent one. He peaked into the kitchen and his heart did a little somersault when he took in the scene before him.

Emily was leaning down next to Jack, her arms reaching around him as she helped him cut his pancakes into manageable pieces. They were both giggling about something; the innocent sound of the child's laughter melding seamlessly with the sweet tones of Emily's to make what Hotch thought was the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

As he leaned against the doorway watching them, a sense of peace and bliss settled over him. Hotch realized that this one moment was simply the epitome of perfection. For the first time since they had moved in, Hotch felt as though his home was truly complete.

Emily looked up to find Hotch regarding them intently. Her heart did a small flip seeing him standing there in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a sweat shirt, his usually neatly coiffed hair mussed and a full smile on his face that revealed two adorable dimples.

"Good morning," he said in a voice still roughened by sleep. It sounded low and intimate to Emily and she had to suppress a shudder as she felt her body reacting to the sound.

"Good morning," she said in an overly bright tone to hide the affect he was having on her. She straightened up and moved over to the coffeemaker. "Would you like some coffee?"

She almost dropped the mug and coffee pot she had just picked up when she realized Hotch was just suddenly there beside her, standing very close. He had moved so quickly and in his bare feet, he had been completely silent.

"I can get it. You're the guest. You shouldn't be doing any of this," he admonished gently as his hand closed over the one that held the coffee mug.

Once again his hand covered hers. His thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand and she could feel the familiar heat his touch was starting to generate in her. Shyly, she slipped her hand out from under his and moved towards the stove.

"Jack was hungry and to be honest, so was I and I didn't think any of us needed those sugary cereals I found in the cabinet. Considering what an anti-junk food kinda guy you are, I was surprised to see them there." She arched an eyebrow at him.

Hotch looked at her sheepishly as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Sometimes, it's best to just capitulate when dealing with a five year old."

Emily chuckled as she poured out the batter for a couple of pancakes. Hotch took a seat at the small breakfast table next to Jack. "Those good pancakes, Buddy?"

"The bestest pancakes ever, Daddy! And we didn't have any syrup, but Emmy made strawberry syrup. It's even better than maple!" Jack crammed another forkful of pancakes into his mouth and he chewed with gusto.

Hotch chuckled and looked into the small bowl of sliced strawberries covered in a reddish liquid. He raised an eyebrow as Emily came over and set a plate of hot pancakes and bacon before him.

"It's just strawberries boiled down in some simple syrup," she replied as she made a plate for herself. "Pretty easy and Master Jack wanted some type of syrup but you were out of maple."

Hotch didn't have much of a sweet tooth so he only spooned a bit of the strawberry syrup onto this plate. However, after tasting it, he picked up the bowl again and poured a generous amount onto the rest of his pancakes.

"This is great," he exclaimed. The taste of the strawberries only seemed to be enhanced by the cooking. It wasn't too sweet and combined with the pancakes, it was addictive.

Emily gave him an amused look. "I always knew you were a closet sugar addict."

Hotch grinned at her. "Don't tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me," she joked.

He gave her a look. "I know it is," he said softly.

They were treading into that unknown territory again that both thrilled and scared Emily. She picked up her own fork and began to eat, breaking eye contact with him and trying to hide the blush that was becoming an almost permanent fixture on her face when she was with Hotch. After watching her for a moment, Hotch also resumed eating.

For a few minutes they all devoted their attention to their breakfast, but Hotch stole a glance at Emily now and then, happy to see her eating more than just a few bites. He sat back and looked over at Jack who was finishing off his pancake.

"All done there, Jack?" Hotch asked.

The little boy nodded his head rapidly. Then as if suddenly remembering his manners, turned to Emily. "Thank you, Emmy for the delicious breakfast!"

She couldn't help the grin that appeared on her face. "You're very welcome, Master Jack. It's always a pleasure to cook for such an appreciative diner."

"Well, Master Jack needs to get ready for school, so Buddy, you'd better run upstairs and wash your face and get into your school clothes."

"Okay, Daddy!" He shot off like a light, leaving the bemused adults in his wake. Emily chuckled lightly and got up to open the refrigerator door.

"What does Jack usually take for lunch?" she asked as she looked inside the icebox.

"Emily, you don't have to do that," Hotch protested as he started to stand.

She waved him back down. "It's no problem. What does he typically have?"

Hotch sighed, though a part of him was thrilled to see her doing this little thing for his son. "Peanut butter and jelly. A yogurt cup. Piece of fruit. There are some bananas, he'll like that. I usually give him a water bottle and a treat. Give him one of the brownies Jess made last night."

Following his directions, Emily quickly put together Jack's lunch and packed it neatly into his Spiderman lunch bag. Hotch had gone upstairs to check on his son's progress in getting ready for school, but was back down with the little boy a few minutes later, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"Got a call while I was upstairs. They need me to go in today and Jess is already on her trip. I can drop Jack off at school, but there's no one to pick him up and stay with him afterwards and I don't know how long I'll be at the Bureau."

"Well, I can pick him up," she said without thinking. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emily wanted to kick herself. So much for trying to be a temporary fixture in the Hotchner house.

Hotch's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Emmy, you're coming to get me after school?" Jack asked in an excited voice.

"Uh, yeah, if your Daddy says its okay," she stammered, a little overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response. Looking at the two happy faces before her, she couldn't help but smile.

Hotch nodded, more than okay with the arrangements. "It would be a lifesaver, Emily. Look, Buddy, can you stay here with Emily for about ten minutes while I go get ready for work?" When Jack nodded, Hotch turned to her. "I'll drop him off on my way in. Fortunately, I've got one of the Bureau cars here along with my personal one. I'll take the Bureau one in and you can use my car. I'll get you the keys and directions to Jack's school. I'll let his teacher know that you'll be picking him up today."

"You'd better describe me to her, Hotch. Remember, I don't have any ID I can show her," Emily warned.

Hotch nodded and with a smile at her and a ruffle of Jack's hair, he hurried upstairs to get ready.

Jack turned to her and said in his enthusiastic voice, "We're going to have an awesome time, Emmy!"

Emily laughed and shook her head, wondering how in the world she had gotten into this situation.

* * *

His steps were firm and solid. The peace and assurance he hadn't felt in over two years added power and strength to his walk. Confidence radiated from him. His steps were lighter resulting in years dropping away from his face and body. He looked handsome and magnetic and had he bothered to look, Hotch would have found more than one admiring eye turned towards him as he made his way through the Bureau lobby. But he had only one thing on his mind as his carried him across the marble floor.

For the first time since it was put up, Hotch found himself able to look at the photo on the Wall of the Dead without feeling as though someone had stabbed him and was slowly twisting the knife in his gut. Hotch walked up to Emily's picture and smiled at it, knowing that it was only a photo and the woman shown was very much alive and safe in his house and would still be there when he went home that night.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch turned his head and looked into the flustered face of Michelle Berenson, Deputy Communications Coordinator. She turned to look at Emily's photo and nodded her head. "I'm having maintenance come up now so they can remove Agent Prentiss' picture from the Wall. I'm glad you're here. It saves me a trip to tell you we're attending to this immediately."

She spoke rapidly and nervously and Hotch realized he probably scared her with his visit over the broken glass a few weeks ago. He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. "Thank you, Deputy Berenson. I appreciate your quick attention to this matter."

She let out a short huff of air and only her media training and experience prevented her from rolling her eyes. "Technical Analyst Garcia has already left me multiple messages about this. I've been helping to deal with the onslaught of calls and reporters since the news broke about Agent Prentiss' return and the Doyle Mission. This has been the first opportunity to deal with this issue."

"Oh Deputy!" they heard a voice trill out and turned to be confronted by the sight of Penelope Garcia, dressed in head to toe lemon with lime green sandals rushing towards them. She frowned when she saw Emily's picture on the Wall. "I thought this was being taken down today?"

"Yes, yes, yes," the woman said in a harried voice. "I'm just waiting for maintenance to send a man up. See? I'm waiting right here for him."

"Then I guess I'll wait with you to keep you company," Garcia said sweetly, still not convinced the woman would actually do as she promised.

Berenson turned eyes that appealed to Hotch to help her. The Unit Chief simply shrugged and said, "Good idea, Garcia. I'm sure Deputy Berenson would like to hear about some of your experiences on our cases as you keep her 'company'."

Berenson looked askance at Hotch, but he simply smiled at her and lifted his eyebrows at Garcia who beamed at him. As he turned to go, his back was momentarily to Berenson and he was close to Garcia where he said in a low voice that only she could hear,

"Make sure that damn photo is off of there before the hour is up."

"As you wish, my liege," Garcia whispered back, a grin on her face.

Hotch nodded once and strode towards the elevators. For two years Aaron Hotchner felt at loose ends, drifting through life. It was his sheer iron will that got him through each day in some functioning manner, but he had felt empty and lifeless. The only time he could muster up any energy or spark was when he was with Jack, but even then, the darkness that seemed to surround him threatened to encroach in that bright spot in his life.

Now, as he walked the hall towards the BAU, with each step he took, it was as if he was reclaiming himself. Now that Emily was back, he felt revitalized, renewed. He felt hope again.

Two years ago, Aaron Hotchner felt his life spin out of control when he lost Emily Prentiss. He had not realized until she was gone how much she meant to him not only as a member of his team, but to him personally as well. His team had felt lost deeply and while they all managed to do their jobs, they were all just getting by. They coped, they functioned, but they hadn't lived. That was no longer good enough for Hotch.

He strode through the bullpen, nodding to Morgan and Reid and returning JJ's wave. He trotted up the steps to the catwalk. His eyes met Rossi's for a moment and Hotch inclined his head in greeting before stepping into his office.

He moved to his desk and sat down, his hands simply resting on the blotter that was centered on the top. Hotch leaned over to remove a photo from his desk drawer. It was a photo of Emily from Jack's birthday party, a picture he had kept hidden away for two years whether to torment him or remind him of happier times, he wasn't certain. However, he no longer felt he had to hide it and unlike the Bureau photo in the lobby where it represented death, this photo, the photo of Emily in pink, the wind blowing her hair and where he could almost hear her laugh, this photo showed Emily as she was now, alive.

Hotch leaned forward and propped the photo up against the paperweight shaped like the Capitol. She was alive. She was back here with them, with him. Like Emily herself, no longer did her photo have to be hidden away.

He stood and looked through the blinds out into the bullpen. Garcia and Rossi had joined the others, the effervescent blonde talking and waving her arms, obviously telling them about her encounter with Berenson. His eyes traveled over to JJ's bright head where she stood listening in rapt attention, her arms already full of folders. Morgan was laughing and Reid was smiling. Rossi had perched himself on Emily's empty desk.

Hotch's eyes went to that desk and he knew it would not stay empty long. The Director had called him in to discuss Emily's reinstatement. If all went smoothly, she would be back here with them in a few weeks. The Bureau was already chomping at the bit to have her as one of their agents again.

Hotch turned and sat back down behind his desk. He looked over at the photo of Emily and smiled. He finally had his team back, his family and he would be damned before he let anyone take a single one of them away from him ever again.

They were back together and Aaron Hotchner would make sure they stayed that way.

Fini.

* * *

**A/N 2: So yes, I do like having things come back to a full circle. This story started off with Emily's picture on the Wall and it ends with them taking it down and a new photo of Emily that represents her return. I also felt it was necessary to show how the team, but especially Hotch had healed during this story from a man who seemed to be lost in the beginning because of grief and guilt, to the in control, confident man we know he truly is because he not only has his full team back, but he has Emily back. He now knows what it's like to lose both and he's not going to risk having that happen again so he will protect it with even more ferocity than before.**

**As I've said many times, there's a sequel to this story coming and I've laid the groundwork for it in this story. It'll be another one that delves into Emily's past with the CIA/Interpol and it'll also explain why she has some trust issues with the team and Hotch in particular. It's not necessarily about the BAU folks, it's just trusting someone in general. The working title I have for that sequel will also tell you what book at Hotch's freaked Emily out. The sequel is tentatively titled **_**Divine Comedy**_** but I reserve the right to change it. That won't appear for a few weeks at least. I am trying to finish my other CM story, "A Rose By Any Other Name" which is my crossover with NCIS.**

**Don't forget that the 2nd Annual Profilers Choice Award for Criminal Minds fiction is now open for nominations. The ballots are found in the discussion forum (when in the list of stories for the CM fan fiction section, look to the top right hand corner of your screen and you'll see a link for "Discussion Forums"), Chit Chat on Authors Corner, 2011 Profilers Choice CM Awards - Nomination Ballot.**

**Thanks again for reading, and please leave some feedback if you can. Merci!**


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